Live Together, Die Alone
by rl94
Summary: Harry loses it all and realises he can't go on without the ones he loves. A desperate attempt to end his own life plummets Harry far back into the past with a chance to shape his future once again. But this past is not quite the same as the one he left behind.
1. Die Alone

Harry's fist clenched around the burnt photograph, the moving images edging slowly away from the cindering corners of the frame, as Harry's tears fell onto the paper, hissing as they made contact with the scalding surface. The scene of destruction that surrounded him was the only remnant of the fierce battle that had taken place hours prior, fires still flaming sporadically throughout the walls of the Burrow. Broken furniture, shattered glass and smoking walls were all that remained of the house that had sheltered more than the broken boy from the cupboard. It was a place where he learned unconditional love, and that family can be chosen in the ones we care most for; becoming more of a home than number 4 Privet Drive ever threatened to be.

Harry placed down the waving photograph of the Weasley family who seemed blissfully ignorant of the horrors the war would bring upon them, the youthful face of a teenage Ginny Weasley smiled abashedly at the raven haired boy before hiding behind her mother, cheeks tinged red in the stained photograph. A flicker of a smile brushed Harry's face as he remembered that day from several years ago, his Fifteenth birthday, celebrated within the very walls of the building he currently stood in. A golden snitch flickered feebly in and out of view, exhausted after several family rounds of quidditch played out in the meadow in the grounds and a black haired dog sniffed the feet of the party dwellers, stopping only to jump and lick a laughing Harry. It seemed so daunting now, that they had not known what the future held in store for the Chosen One, and how their lives would warp from that day onwards.

Harry reluctantly tore his eyes away from the past and focused on the charred evidence of the present. The couch was upturned, holes burned into the upholstery that functioned as a shield during those fierce hours of battle. Ron's beloved chess set was scattered on the floor, pawns crumbled into a thousand chards, and a solitary King shouting abuse from underneath the table in the corner, apparently unharmed in the carnage. The game that had been suspended so unceremoniously mid battle earlier in the day hung as a cruel reminder of the move that Voldemort had played, check and mate.

A clock's edge could be seen emerging from underneath the sofa, all hands of the clock stationary and unmoving. Harry functioned on autopilot as he reached down and grabbed the contraption that has fascinated him ever since he was a mere child, absorbing the wonders of the Burrow for the first time after being rescued by the Weasley children from his prison. He blew away the dust that had settled, revealing the ten hands that lay beneath the mess. Harry remembered bursting with pride the day Molly presented him with his seventeenth birthday present; a metal hand of a clock with a smiling and waving portrait at the edge. His eyes narrowed with sadness as he located the hands on the clock, his solitary position declaring his location as 'home' contrasted with the other nine, faces mingled as the magic of the clock tried to single out each hand on its own. Dead. They were all gone. And it was Harry's fault. He'd got them into this mess, he was the reason that the Burrow was targeted and was the cause of all the death and destruction that seemed to follow Harry James Potter no matter where he went.

He was but nineteen years of age yet his eyes held the sadness of an old man as he closed them shut slowly, considering all those he had lost in the short years of his life. His parents had made the ultimate sacrifice to give him a chance to live, yet he has wasted that opportunity. There was so much he could have done, so much he could have changed, if he had just started preparing sooner. Tears began to escape unwillingly from the corners of his eyes as he pictured his last images of his Godfather, the ghost of his last laugh etched into his memory as he fell backwards, almost gracefully, into the veil. His one chance of freedom wasted as Harry ran so carelessly and hot heatedly into a battle he was ill prepared to face. The countless blurred names of all those who had sacrificed their lives in this last year since Harry had left Hogwarts merged into a mess inside his head, voices, screams and shouts becoming louder and unbearable until Harry sunk to his knees and held his aching head in his hands.

He knew it had been a mistake to return to the Burrow for his nineteenth birthday, he was being tracked and his every movement was sought after by the Death Eaters desperate to grant their Lord's wishes to deliver the boy to him to meet his just end. Little did Voldemort realise that the loss of those he held dear to him tore him up inside more than death ever could, the weight of the world and the blame of a hundred deaths tore him apart each and every day.

Immediately upon his return to the decaying building, he passed through several layers of wards, lowered slightly for the day to allow for new individuals to enter, those who had not been present for well over two years. The once filled out face of Molly Weasley looked gaunt and sick upon first inspection, the toils and toll of the war clear in her physique which had becoming skeletal over the course of his absence. Her greeting hug was more bone crushing than normal, the obvious jaunting of their bodies clashing painfully against one another. Arthur reached around his jittering wife who had begun to fuss over her youngest son and tut over his lack of eating habits, apparently oblivious to her own fierce loss of appetite. Harry grabbed the hand of his surrogate father firmly, trying to pass over his feelings of sorrow in his touch. Arthur's eyes glistened sadly in understanding, he had lived through the first war and knew the sacrifices that had to be made in order to defeat the enemy, despite wishing his two youngest sons and their muggleborn friend could stay under his wing once more.

"Welcome home, son". Arthur mumbled into Harry's ear as he briefly pulled him in for a hug, patting the tall boy on the shoulder.

"Molly's been waiting years to bake you a cake again, you should see the feast she's laid out today" Arthur whispered, "She's been locked in that kitchen all week, you'd think Lockhart was coming for tea".

Harry chuckled in mirth, happy to know he'd given the matriarch something positive to focus on in the light of the darkness that was suffocating them.

"She knows the way to my heart, with that fantastic treacle tart of hers".

Harry looked on past the Weasley elders, glimpsing at the lopsided levels and the angry gnomes stumbling their way back onto the property. If Harry closed his eyes it was almost as if nothing had changed. Yet Harry knew there was one person he yearned to see, who's presence was the riding factor in his agreement to visit today after his harsh refusal at Hermione's initial suggestion. He shoved his hands into his pockets as his made his way towards the door, leaving behind his two friends chatting eagerly to Molly and Arthur about the current state of affairs in the wizarding world. Information often became lost in translation with the limited degree of contact they were able to establish whilst on the run.

He smelled her before he saw her. The waft of perfumed flowers drifted delectably into his nose, a smell he thought he would never experience again. And there she was. The epitome of everything he ever desired, brown eyes burning into green with such a fierce smouldering of love that Harry nearly stepped backwards to regain himself. Ginny slowly rose from her chair at the table, leaving behind the napkin she was crafting into a lily. She flew at him faster than Harry was prepared for, and they both stumbled backwards as Harry's face burrowed into her red hair.

"Harry" was all he heard through the muffled sobbing into his shoulder, as he embraced her tighter and lowered them both onto the couch. Despite the years of turmoil and obstacles they had stuck together through thick and thin, although despite letters and broken conversations through a creaky modified wireless radio, nothing compared to the physical contact they had so long craved. A watery face lifted from his neck and cold fingers began to trace the sharp jawline that so yearned for this contact. Harry reached his hand and tangled it into Ginny's flowing locks, holding onto this moment like it was the last one he was ever going to get. As their lips touched, warm nostalgia flooded into Harry like blood through his veins, every sensation heightened as he took the feel of his girlfriend once again. They sprung apart as they heard the front door clash open, Ron bumbling in and heading straight for the table.

"Cor mum, you don't know how long I've been waiting for this" he exclaimed, slamming into his old place at the table.

"Ronald, don't be so rude. There's only an hour until dinner, don't spoil your appetite" Hermione reprimanded from the doorway as she stepped into the threshold, yet the small smile on her lips gave away her amusement at the situation. Ginny smiled and ran into the arms of her remaining sibling, her joy at being reunited evident on her face. Her other brothers had already perished the year before protecting Diagon Alley from an insurgent of magical beast attacks. The twins' shop was torn apart as they sheltered the innocent shoppers from harm, Charlie burned to a crisp tackling a fierce Norwegian Ridgeback that was flaming the town from above. Bill spent his last moments fighting side by side with his goblin colleagues, a pact of trust against the dark forces that had taken years to forge.

It felt so unreal for them all to be back, such a sense of normality in a time of complete and utter confusion. Despite searching for two years, one horcrux remained. The location of the last piece of the puzzle of Voldemort's mortality lay hidden, and out of reach, despite the effort of the three teens and Hermione's ruthless researching skills. The day they shared was one of laughter, a momentary relief from the war and a reminder of what Harry was fighting for, and what he had to live for. His hand remained wrapped around Ginny's until that fateful moment.

"Check" Hermione declared smugly, arms crossed and a look of satisfaction upon her face. Ron scowled at the board before looking up to his girlfriend with a look of mirth on his face at her premature celebrations, believing she finally had the upper hand on her boyfriend who continually remained more skilled than her at the game. Ron shouted instructions to his remaining knight, who dutifully obeyed his orders, hopping over two pawns in the process.

"Check Ma-"

The word died on Ron's lips as a shrieking wail pierced the darkening walls of the Burrow. Cups fell from Molly and Arthur's hands as they leapt to their feet, wands springing into their hands, as the teenagers rose from their seats.

"They're here," Arthur stated, his voice hoarse and cracked in fear. "They must have known"

"Can you run?" Harry quickly asked, "It's me they want. If I go it will distract them long enough for you to escape, take Ginny and get yourselves to Grimmauld place. It still has enough protections to keep you safe, and nobody can get in apart from us. We're the only ones left."

Molly glanced nervously at her husband, her hand gripped tighter on her weapon.

"Don't be silly Harry dear, we're going to stay right where we are. I might be getting old but I remember a trick or two with this old wand." The Weasley matriarch replied.

"Honestly Harry, we all knew it would come to this one day, you don't have to do this alone" Hermione smiled from across the room, a look of determination clear on her face as she mentally went over spells she had learned that could be utilised in battle.

Yet they didn't know it would come to how it would. Nobody did. Hermione's screams from the Cruciatus curse still rung in his ears, Ron's gurgled groans of pain as a cutting curse severed his neck as he leapt in front of the curse intended to hit Hermione. Molly and Arthur dropped like flies as the sharp light of the killing curse reverberated around the room. It had been just him and Ginny left, the heat of the battle stopped momentarily as they leapt behind the upturned sofa that provided brief respite from the duel.

Harry panted deeply as he tried to regain his breath, the remaining death eaters closing in on the two. He looked down into the eyes of the one girl who meant everything to him, and saw the pain and grief already marred on her face at losing the rest of her family.

"I'm sorry" He croaked, wiping away a tear from Ginny's face. He reached around his neck and pulled out the golden snitch that his headmaster had trusted upon to him in his death. The Hallow retrieved from it's interior months prior left behind a shell that acted merely as a sentimental reminder of the relationship he shared with his instructor. Yet Hermione had cleverly crafted each of them an emergency portkey to be activated only once in times of great need, the runes engraved on the surface held great power, capable of breaking through wards to ensure safety. He placed the pendant over Ginny's neck.

"Take it, it will take you somewhere safe, somewhere away from harm. When you get there, contact the remaining Order and tell them what happened. Do not come back for me, I'll come and find you. I promise."  
Ginny understood the implications of the pendant around her neck, and knew that Harry would not be returning to her that night. The battering of the spell work was becoming more harsh against the weak shield they were huddling behind. Harry had spent his last years protecting her, and he would face death kindly knowing that she was alive and well.

"I love you more than anything in this world, Harry." Ginny whispered, "And I'm sorry too".

Their eyes met as she fiercely pressed her lips against his, every fibre of their beings clinging on to each other in that last moment. Ginny rose sharply from behind their solace, ripping the portkey from around her neck and throwing onto the floor, near to the window of the approaching death eaters.

"Ginny, what are you doi-". Harry was cut off by Ginny's scream of _INCENDIO._

The fire curse hit the enchanted ball and exploded with such ferocity that the south facing wall of the Burrow crumbled in resistance, the anguished screams of the enemies lasted only a second before they evaporated into thick piles of ash. Harry instinctively ducked for cover until the roar of the flames died down. He looked down into the face of Ginny, knowing he would never see that blazing look again in his lifetime.

The sun rose sharply against the remains of the family home that next morning, Harry remained curled around Ginny's body, eyes unmoving and brain unthinking. He did not know how he was going to go on, he had nobody left. He had nothing to fight for. What use was there in living if he had nobody, his mistakes had caused the death of everybody he loved. Oh he yearned for a chance to do it all again, there would be so much he'd change and so many lives he could save if he had just worked harder from the start.

He gripped his wand in his hand, laughing manically at the thought. After all this trying to escape from Voldemort's life attempts here he was, wand moving towards his face until the tip was pressed sharply into his forehead, directly above the scar that had taunted him his entire life. A flicker of guilt shot through his system remembering his father and mother's sacrifice to keep him in this world, but was quickly buried by his consuming grief at the loss of all he held dear. His mind flicked back to the feel of Ginny's lips on his, and the sound of her laugh, letting the feeling engulf him like he was about to cast the strongest patronus he could muster.

"AVADA KEDAVRA" Harry shouted into the empty room. A blinding green flash surrounded Harry, a momentary feeling of peace came over him before blackness took him, all feelings and emotions left behind in a world that had lost so much in such a short space of time.

The chosen one was dead.


	2. Stormy Beginnings

**A/N: Just to clarify actually receiving responses has scared me a little bit, I've never written anything before in my life (apart from coursework) and now there's actually people looking at things I've written and expecting more! I'm a scientist not a writer! But as crazy as it sounds I'm actually really enjoying writing, and whilst I have exams to revise for this is perfect procrastination to distract me from my degree! (Harry Potter is much more fun than Chemistry). Anyways, I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with the plot, but I have a few solid ideas worked out and will build towards them in time, I will keep updating as fast as my schedule allows it, but with Christmas holidays still going strong I should hopefully get a third chapter out in a week or so. Hope you enjoy! **

The shallow waves battered against the callous rock, and roaring thunder rattled the very foundations of the old house that creaked dangerously in the lake. The brief flashes of lightening illuminated the sparse lounge that housed a rather plump boy snoring loudly on the sofa, a small line of dribble falling from his mouth. On the floor, barely visible beneath the shadow of his older cousin, lay a thin boy, body draped in clothes three or four sizes too large for his frame. The smaller boy tossed and turned in a troubled state, his brow crunched in agitation at the images he was seeing in his dreams.

Fire. Flames. Screaming. Bright flashes of light and loud noises rattled the inside of Harry's brain. He had dreamed of these strange lights before but never had they felt so real, no matter how hard he tried he could not pull himself away from the pictures in front of him. The scene settled, a clattered house lay in ruins before him, the bodies of young men and women littered the floor, flaming red hair at every turn. He tried to turn and run, to escape the nightmare he had become stuck in, but his eyes stared transfixed at the young man before him. He had bright green eyes, crooked glasses that were hanging limply at the end of his nose, and a jagged scar that cut across his pale forehead. He was staring unseeing into the wreckage before him, misery and pain evident in his being. He raised a stick towards his head, intent clear in his actions, and shouted words in a language Harry did not understand.

He was spinning, falling into a world of green light. He did not know where he was, or who he was. His descent spiralled seemingly endlessly until he could no longer see, plummeting with a great force onto a hard, damp floor.

Harry gasped, shooting upright from his slumber and holding his head in pain. _What was that? _He pondered, eyes adjusting to the dim light in his surroundings. Dudley was grunting in his sleep beside him, and the rhythmic vibrations of the ceiling above told him that Uncle Vernon was sleeping soundly too. He sighed softly, eyes still scrunched in frustration, the images of his dream still fresh in his mind and his doppelganger's pain left a haunting chill in Harry's heart. He glanced down at his watch, one of the only things Dudley hadn't broken in his spare bedroom at Number 4, and Harry had quickly salvaged what he could from the mounds of unwanted and unloved gifts that were piled there.

The numbers flashed 12:00 in the evening darkness, a small beep emitting from the device alerting Harry to the time. He glanced down and smiled softly,

"Happy Birthday indeed" he whispered, the oncoming storm drowning out noise from his mouth. Harry rose gently from his 'bed' on the floor, draping one of the moth eaten rags around his shoulders to act as a buffer against the wind that was hurling through the rafters. He sat beneath the large window that opened onto the large expanse of water stretched out before them, isolating them from the mainland. The raging storm fascinated Harry, it spoke to him through rumbles and groans and made him feel less alone, if only for a moment. He raised his eyes to the sky, bright stars dotted the horizon, his small amount of astronomy knowledge told him that the dog star, _Sirius, _was bright tonight.

Sirius. The thought of the name caused Harry to grip onto the ledge in pain, images rushing through his mind. A large purple bus, a howling hound at the full moon, a small mirror and a bounding black dog flickered feebly as memories tried to push themselves to the surface. He felt comforted by these memories, yet he did not understand why. Who was Sirius? In fact he wasn't even sure Sirius was a real name, he'd yet to meet anyone at school with a name quite as strange as that. His eyes trailed back to the darkening sky, there were two large stars that were seemingly getting bigger, coming towards him quicker than Harry could think to duck. A fierce roaring cut through the noise of the weather, and the vehicle of his constant dreams appeared before him, a flying motorcycle.

He _knew _it! Uncle Vernon said he was crazy but Harry knew that it wasn't just a figment of his imagination! Sat atop the large bike sat an even larger man, hands bigger than the wheels of the bike that he rode. He took off his helmet and shook his shaggy hair free, walking towards the large wooden door that was rattling threatening in its frame.

Harry leapt from the window thinking quickly. Uncle Vernon really wouldn't appreciate being woken by this man; he didn't know what he'd do to him. Thinking on his feet, without really comprehending the consequences he rushed to the door and dragged it open, revealing a cloaked shadow of a giant standing threateningly in the doorway. Harry began to regret his decision as he backed away slowly from the beast, his hands braced in front of him preparing to defend himself from the imminent attack from the man. He lifted a large weapon from his pocket, and pointed the tip straight at Harry's face. Harry braced himself.

"Lumos" The giant muttered. "Well I be, didn' see yer down there Harry!"

Harry stared owlishly up at the man, whose face in the light did not seem as scary as he once thought. A bright smile lit the face of the rugged man, his eyes shining with warmth and familiarity as he stared down at the small boy that resembled his old favourite students so much.

"Me name's Rubeus Hagrid, though jus' call me Hagrid, ev'ryone does" He said proudly, chest puffed out, "Now if yer don' mind I'll jus' get outta this storm. Blimey Harry, wha' are yer wearin'?" He questioned stepping into the house and shutting the door behind him, drowning out the wailing from outside. He raised his weapon, Harry realising with a jolt it was in fact a pink umbrella, and pointed at the fireplace, causing orange flames to leap into action in the hearth.

"Please, Sir, we can't wake my uncle, he'd go mad if he knew you were here" Harry stammered, "There's been strange things going on for a while now, owls and letters, if he saw you I don't know how he'd react".

"Don' yer worry bout yer brute of an Uncle Harry" Hagrid reassured him, " 'spect he's snorin' like the walrus he is up there".

Harry chuckled darkly, images of the vein in Vernon's head pulsating if he heard this man refer to him in such a way.

"How do you know who I am?" He questioned, "And what are you doing here? I don't know how you found us, we've come a long way to avoid being found."

"Las' time I saw you, you were only a baby" said the giant, "Yeh look a spittin' image of yeh dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes."

He turned to point to the large motorcycle on balanced on the rocks outside.

"In fact, yeh sat on me lap as a wee baby last time I held yeh Harry."

That caused everything in Harry's mind to fall into the place. The dreams, the lights, they weren't just made up they were real, memories of a long time before.

"As fer me, Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Ground at Hogwarts. Course yeh probably know all there is ter kno' about Hogwarts"

"Sorry, but no." Harry Replied. "Sorry-" He hastened to add, as the giant's eyes darkened.

"No?!" Hagrid fumed. "But didn' yeh wonder where yer parents learn' it all?"

"Learnt what?" Harry mused, intrigued by the scene that was playing out in front of him.

The fire in the hearth seemed to flicker with the rage that resonated from the giant's form; he reached out and grabbed Harry, causing him to fall with the force of his strength.

"Now wait jus' one second" Hagrid thundered. "Yer mean teh tell me yeh know nothing about our world? Yeh parent's world?"

"What world?" Harry questioned, completely lost as to what Hagrid was talking about. "All I know about my parents is that they died in a car crash."

"A CAR CRASH. A CAR CRASH KILL LILY AND JAMES POTTER!?" Hagrid's voice boomed ominously around the hut, the rhythmic vibrations from above coming to an abrupt halt. A high pitched squeal from the sofa alerted Hagrid to the chubby boy quivering in the room, eyes wide as saucers at the giant man speaking to his cousin.

A feeble light flickered the room into a dim glow, two pairs of slippered feet appeared down the rickety staircase that lead to the single bedroom above.

"What is the meaning of this nonsense" Uncle Vernon bellowed. "Boy, I'll make you pay for thi-"

His tirade was cut short at the sight he found in the living area below, his son cowered in the corner, sobbing quietly in the firelight. His freak of nephew stood with an even more freakish sight, a man almost double himself in height, staring in his direction with a menacing look upon his face. Realisation dawned upon the elder Dursley, there was no other explanation for it, this man was one of _them. _Oh he had tried, mercilessly, to quash any abnormalities out of that boy but it was quite clear that there was no use- he was just as freakish as his reckless parents had been before him.

"Yeh didn' tell Harry about Hogwarts? About who he was, wha' he is?" Hagrid demanded, edging closer to the figures on the stair well.

"Well you see here, Sir. We thought- We thought we could stop this nonsense, make him normal" Vernon said. "Bloody waste of time if you ask me, just as barmy as his parents. Wish I'd never listened to that crackpot old fool, should have returned him to your lot as soon as I got the chance!"

Harry frowned in confusion. What did Hagrid mean by _what _he was? And who was his lot? He couldn't contain his questions any longer.

"Hagrid, what do you mean by what I am?"

"Yeh a Wizard Harry" Hagrid said. "And I don' doubt a fine one too once yeh get to Hogwarts. Fine place, and yeh will learn under teh greates' headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen!"

All logical thought in Harry's mind immediately scoffed at the suggestion. A wizard? Absolutely impossible. _Or was it. _He brought to the forefront of his mind the incidents that had plagued his childhood- levitating to the roof in school fights, turning his teacher's hair blue during lessons and how fast his hair seemed to grow back no matter how often Petunia tried to slash it off. He has merely reasoned that these incidents couldn't be more than coincidence, but as his teacher had once told him- "The Universe is rarely so lazy".

But the possibilities seemed almost too good to be true, a home away from here, in a place where he belonged- where he was accepted. All his life he had been the freak, and he knew little more than to accept his situation and obey the wishes of his guardians.

Hagrid cut into Harry's thoughts placing a padded enveloped into his hand.

"Suppose it's abou' time yeh read yer letter" Hagrid said.

Harry slid shaking fingers beneath the flap of the seal, after weeks of curiousity as to the contents of the letter he was finally holding the answers in his hand.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your response as soon as possible.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress.

Harry blinked at the writing in front of him, questions imploding in his mind like gunshots, each jumping over one another to be asked first. It took several minutes of stammering until he could finally form words.

"Where am I to buy all of my equipment? I can't imagine we'll find much of this in any of the shops I know" Harry asked, skimming over the mind boggling equipment list that had fallen out of the envelope.

"I know jus' the place teh go. But firs' we're gonna take a small detou' if yeh don' mind Harry." Hagrid said. "Grab yeh coat, we're goin' flyin'"

Harry's eyes lit up in delight, they were going aboard the flying bike! Years of childish dreams were coming true, and as embarrassed as Harry was by his reaction he couldn't contain his excitement.

"Wow Hagrid, we're really going to fly on that?" Harry babbled. "Wicked!"

He stared around the floor, and picked up one of the rags he was using earlier whilst sitting by the window. He draped it over his shoulders and tied a small knot at the front, fashioning a thin cloak. Hagrid stared dubiously at the young boy, questioning his choice of attire. Harry sensed the look of confusion on the man's face, and stared abashedly at the floor, cheeks turning red.

"I, I don't actually have a coat of my own, sir" He stammered. "But this will do just fine, and once the storm passes I'll dry off real fast". He glanced hopefully at Hagrid, desperately hoping that he would not leave him behind.

Hagrid's black eyes seemed to darken even further. The storm outside couldn't compare to the tornado that was emitting from the giant, air crackling with uncontained fury. He lifted his umbrella towards Vernon, who was shaking in fear slowly making his way back upstairs, afraid to take his eyes off of the danger.

"Now see here," Petunia piped up, speaking for the first time since Hagrid had made an appearance. "When my sister went and got herself blown up I didn't ask to be landed with the brat. My dratted sister being what she was, all my parents saw was the perfect daughter she claimed to be. But I saw right through that act to what she really was- a freak."

She turned to Harry, who was glaring at his Aunt.

"And you turned out just the same. Just as strange. Just as _abnormal. _Now you want to go to that school too, under that madman who claims to be a headmaster. Well mark my words, you'll end up the same way as my sister and that Potter- getting yourself blown up."

Her voice seemed almost regretful as she turned away from her nephew. Unbeknownst to Harry, Petunia was replaying the promises she had made her sister a lifetime ago. She had vowed to protect the child in front of her, but she had failed- not only Lily but her son too. She had been blinded by the man by her side, letting him overrule her better judgement. She had been too weak to stand up for the infant, and even weaker now the child was slowly turning into a young man. She kept her fears inside, daring not to show any emotions for her stead, knowing how things only went from bad to worse when Lily had left her to attend that school.

Hagrid gently pushed Harry behind him, underestimating his own strength and causing Harry to grab at the wall blindly to stop himself from falling over entirely. He shrugged off his massive moleskin coat and passed it to him.

"Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets." He said. "But tha' will keep yeh nice an' warm till we get there. Now go wait outside fer one minute, I jus' need ter have a quick word with yer aun' and uncle."

Harry shrugged his tiny body into the heavy coat that Hagrid had provided, it could have covered him seven times over if he needed it to. He grinned as he felt movement in one of the many pockets, and chanced a glimpse inside as he made his way to the door. Inside housed several content mice gnawing at a large lump of cheese, squeaking in discomfort at Harry letting the warmth escape their humble abode. Harry reached the large wooden door and turned to look at his family, they were eying Hagrid with great disconcert and didn't bother to even glance in his direction. Shrugging nonchalantly Harry, opened the door without even a brief goodbye, understanding that nothing was needed to be said to the couple who had made it quite clear they did not wish to endure his company any longer after being forced to raise him. Although raise might have been too kind of an analogy for the treatment they provided him with.

He climbed onto the seat of the bike, his coat dragging onto the surface below despite being tucked around and under Harry so many times he could barely move. He pricked his ears curiously towards the hut, hoping to catch a small snippet of what was occurring within. Moments later a sharp flash of light, accompanied by three screams of varying intensity emitted from the walls. Hagrid quickly exited, tucking his umbrella into his large boot, a concerned look on his face as he stroked his beard in apparent agitation.

"What did you do Hagrid?" Harry asked.

Hagrid pulled himself onto the large motorcycle and kickstarted the ignition, reaching behind himself to place the helmet on Harry's head which magically shrunk to fit him perfectly. He fastened the strap and turned around, twisting the handle fiercely.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper." He remarked. "Tried ter turn yer Uncle into a walrus, but it didn' work anyway. Guess he was so much like one already there wasn't much left ter do."

"Well what happened?" Harry asked concerned, as Hagrid rose the bike to hover slightly above the ground as he switched on the booming headlights that Harry had spotted earlier that evening. As much as he didn't like the man he didn't wish harm to him, hoping the Hagrid hadn't done anything too dangerous. Just as he was waiting for Hagrid to respond the door crashed open, and a fuming Vernon bounded onto the wet rocks outside. Either side of his face two giant tusks protruded from underneath his bristly moustache, which had increased slightly in length. The two giant teeth drooped slightly below his chin and had clamped his jaw shut, making him incapable of little more than grunting and groaning angrily.

"Think that's our cue ter leave" Harry quipped, putting the bike into gear. "Hold on tigh' Harry, next stop- Hogwarts".

Harry grasped the back of the large man's shirt, burrowing his face into the warmth. He chanced one look behind him as they rose high above the swirling waves below, watching his uncle bounce in fury, tusks glinting in the summer moonlight. He smiled in glee. He was going to Hogwarts.


	3. Second Chances

He was engulfed in complete and utter darkness, consumed by the blackness around him. There was no other logical explanation for it, this was death. So why didn't he feel at peace? Wasn't this where he was welcomed open armed into an eternity of bliss, arm in arm with his loved ones? It sure didn't feel like it. In fact every inch of Harry's body ached, from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes it felt like he'd been battered worse than Fred and George's bludgers after Oliver's training sessions in his third year. He shifted slightly to lie on his side, groaning at the protests his shaking body made at the slight movement, and reached down gingerly to his pocket where his wand was located.

"Lumos".

Light radiated from the end of Harry's wand, but it could not touch the swirling fog that encompassed every direction as far as the eye could see. Harry slowly got to his feet, shaking out his aching limbs and stretching his muscles. Maybe this was some kind of test. He'd read relatively little about the wizarding perspective of life after death, although the perspectives he had read had intrigued him. Many wizards and witches alike agreed with the works of Dewitt Underson; the soul of the deceased passed swiftly and effortlessly into an afterlife in which all those who had been lost would be reunited. However smaller schools of thoughts believed those who perished entered a state of limbo in which they would have to overcome great challenges or ordeals in order to prove their worth and _move on _so to speak. He couldn't fathom what test he may be facing here, perhaps a removal of enchantment of some sort- _some help would be appreciated _he thought, agitated.

In the distance a shard of illumination penetrated the darkness, a light at the end of this tunnel. It shone invitingly in the distance, its rays breaking through the fog and forming a path leading directly to the beacon. Harry eyed the spectacle dubiously, unsure as to whether or not to head towards it or to wait where he was. Surely if he waited here, whatever was meant to happen would happen- he was dead, what more could he do. Harry pointed the light at himself and stared down, he was still donned in the clothes he had been wearing earlier in the day, stained with streaks of blood and covered in ash. A quick cleaning charm left him wearing clothes that looked brand new, although even magic at its greatest potential cannot remove all traces of magical residues, leaving faint residues on the garments if one looked hard enough.

A chiming noise sounded in the distance, emanating from the great light whose glow was only intensifying as the moments passed by. Sighing with resignation Harry dimmed his wand, using the path as guidance for direction and began walking towards the chimes. Judging by the length of the pathway he was in for a good few hours trekking….

The orange glows of sunrise began to peek above the horizon, illuminating the mountainous peaks below them. The moon had begun hours before its descent into the ground as the weather cleared tremendously as the small boy and the giant flew over the English country side. Harry had had great fun whilst thousands of feet in the air, taking great care to mentally absorb the sights he was seeing below him- having never been on an aeroplane he had only dreamt of seeing the world from such a splendid angle. He used the lights of the small towns and bustling cities to locate any landmarks he knew about; early into the journey he spotted the winding pier and colourful lights of Southend-on-Sea. He had made various trips here as a child; most recently ending in Dudley throwing his ice cream cone in anger at a theme park attendant upon being told that he was too large to fit on the ride. Harry had spent an entire week in his cupboard for laughing at his cousin for that trip. He craned his neck at the marvellous sight of London, a network of light and buildings towering over the specks below. Even in the dead of night the busy city life was almost buzzing from above. A large expanse of the journey was indistinguishable over darkened farmland and sleeping villages, occasional Lorries and cars could be spotted crawling along the roads as the rest of the country rested in their beds. He was beginning to tire, wondering when they were going to reach Hogwarts, but thought better than to try and shout to Hagrid over the roar of the engine.

The rise of the sun allowed Harry to gather a better grasp on his location- he knew there wasn't any mountains in England, and he was almost certain they hadn't passed over any oceans, which meant they must be entering Scotland.

"Hang on Harry, we're almos' there now." Hagrid bellowed. "Jus' need ter lower this girl dow' now".

They had begun to descend, the beautiful landscape around them dazzled in the early morning light, a pinnacle of beauty. Yet despite the wondrous settings Harry's hand moved to the scar on his forehead, ever since his nightmare hours prior his headache was worsening, resonating from the lightening shaped cut on his crown.

Harry had been walking for hours, he thought, the nearing destination becoming slightly larger and clearer in the hazy fog. His feet ached and his stomach grumbled forcefully, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since his birthday meal earlier that day. At least he think it happened that day- time was merging, he could not tell how long had passed since he had arrived in this place. Minutes, hours, days, years? It was impossible to track. All he knew was that the chiming music was speeding up, a melody forming that he couldn't quite yet place, the lyrics jumbled and lost in translation across the expanse between him and the veil of light. He stopped briefly to conjure a flask and pour some fresh water from his wand into the vessel, gulping eagerly at the conjured liquid. He poured the remainder over his face, alerting his senses and providing a rush of motivation. He moved with a greater anticipation in his step.

"There she is Harry- Hogwarts"

Harry glanced up; he had spent the last half an hour with his face burrowed in Hagrid's back trying to dispel the pain in his head. But the sight before him shifted the discomfort momentarily. It was absolutely magnificent, likened to something out of the fairytales he had heard Dudley be read as a child. The towers peaked high above the grounds below, piercing the air with a grace and beauty Harry had never seen before. A glittering lake shimmered in the light breeze that was blowing beneath them; a shadow of a large being underneath the shores was barely visible beneath the lily pads that littered the surface. A large forest surrounded the West side of the castle grounds, a montage of trees of all shapes and sizes spread as far as the eye could distinguish. Harry was able to catch brief glimpses of wildlife flocking between the logs, and if Harry's eyes weren't playing tricks he could have almost _sworn _he just saw a Unicorn herd.

Hagrid landed the motorcycle on a well trodden path that lead directly to the castle's gates, the speed slowed considerably until they were cruising comfortably towards the entrance. A flick of Hagrrid's umbrella and a mumble of what Harry assumed to be a password of some sort caused the heavy iron gates to creak open, revealing the road up to the fortress. They utilised the muggle function of the vehicle to travel the rest of their short journey, Harry taking this time to absorb everything around him, this was really happening. Hagrid was chatting excitedly to Harry, who could hear words such as 'Grindylows', 'Hinkypunks' and 'dragons' being slipped into the conversation, but a mixture of Harry's pulsating head and his utter amazement lead him to enter a state of temporary deafness.

As they reached the open castle doors Harry slipped off the bike, shrugging out of the coat that had sheltered him for the journey.

"Thank you Hagrid" He said sheepishly, handing the coat back to the wizard who took it absentmindedly.

But Hagrid's attention was directed towards the doors, out of which an old man had just stepped through. Although despite his age Harry could not have been fooled as to his importance, power literally radiated off the eccentric character, from his crooked purple hat perched on his curling grey hair, all the way down to the last sparkling gold buckle on his knee high boots. Tucked into said boots was thin robes of a maroon and gold colouring, silver patterns etched over the fabric that looked akin to the hieroglyphics of the Ancient Egyptians. He peered curiously at Harry over his half moon spectacles, bright blue eyes sparkling in curiousity and wonder, his eyes lingering on Harry's scar for the briefest of moments before passing over to Hagrid.

"Ah, Hagrid I see you have returned from your travels." He said. "And brought a certain Mr Potter with you. I didn't expect this meeting until the start of term, but alas it is a pleasure as always to meet you Mr Potter." He stepped down the stone steps until he came face to face with Harry, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a brown paper bag. He offered the sweets towards the young boy.

"Lemon drop?"

"No thank you sir" Harry politely declined, unsure what to make of the man before him, having only heard negative connotations of the headmaster from his guardians. _Although, _Harry reasoned, _his aunt and uncle's opinions on recent matters left little to be desired. _He met the eyes of the headmaster whose own twinkled in return.

"Lily's eyes, you bear a remarkable resemblance to your parents young Harry." He mused. "Your eyes are the very same of which your mother bore, yet the rest of you resembles James so greatly. I dare say they would have wished to have been here the moment you first set foot in their old school."

Harry absorbed this slight new information about his parents, having been deprived of any details growing up. Asking questions had lead to beatings or long spells in his cupboard, and despite his burning curiousity he learnt quickly that it was easier to squash any longing questions he held about his deceased parents.

"You knew my parents sir?" He asked, before realising that he had spoken out of turn. "Sorry, I don't mean to ask questions."

"Not at all Harry, it is most natural to want to know about those whom we have lost. I was headmaster during your parent's time here, your mother was made head girl in her final year here, a position which she excelled in. Your father I met several times before he was made head boy, a splendid prankster in his day. Him and young Sirius Black graced my office dare say more times than any students before them."

Humour laced his voice, yet Harry could hear a distinct hint of something else in his voice. Regret? His parents had been head boy and girl, Harry could already feel the pressure on his shoulders and he felt his distress mounting- hours ago he didn't even know this world existed, how could he live up to his parent's legacies? But another pressing matter was at hand, there was the name again- _Sirius. _This was the second time today that he had heard the name, but this time it wasn't from inside of his own head.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir." Hagrid cut in from beside him, breaking Harry from his reverie, forgetting about the giant's presence. "I need ter speak to yeh abou' Harry if yeh don' mind, in private o' course."

"Most certainly, if we would like to reconvene to my office" The older wizard replied, hoisting his robes above his ankle and leading the way back into the castle. "If you would like to come with me Mr Potter, I will show you the way; Hogwarts can be quite overwhelming at first. Although I'm sure much like the other Potters before you, you will soon know more about the secrets of these walls than even I."

Harry broke his run and slowed and he finally reached the end of the path, having lead him to what appeared to be a large pensieve much akin to the one his old headmaster had once used to show him Tom Riddle's past in his sixth year. Although this pensieve did not have innate runes carved around the edge, instead it held numbers, dates. Roman numerals depicting certain points in time, although there appeared to be no logical patterning to the ones he could make out. But one glowed softly, illuminating itself from the others which remained dim and inactive in the stone. 31st July 1991. His eleventh birthday he recalled fondly, the day everything changed- in fact the day he met his first ever friend, Hagrid, and his second friend; his beloved owl Hedwig. He with a pang the sacrifice his dear familiar had made that night six years in the future, a firm bond of companionship forged in the process.

He edged closer to the murky liquid within, he could vaguely make out images within its depths; he squinted his eyes in order to focus on the movements. Was that? It _couldn't _be. He saw a much younger version of himself gripping firmly onto one of the banisters of the moving staircases of Hogwarts, accompanied in tow by the very Giant he was just remembering, and his old headmaster, looking more alive than he could ever imagine. He blinked slowly, but if this was a pencieve surely it only showed memories, of real events- and he certainly couldn't remember ever travelling in an empty castle with Hagrid and Dumbledore- particularly not on his eleventh birthday.

He backed away, _although maybe this isn't a pensieve_. It certainly resembled one, but Harry knew there were many magical artefacts he had never encountered let alone considered. The object in front of him may hold powers unbeknown to him. Perhaps it functioned similar to the mirror of Erised he mused, but alas, if the images in the liquid portrayed his heart's desires he certainly wouldn't have relived his awkward Hogwart years all over again. Perhaps another reality in which the prophecy had never existed, a much deeper desire of his heart, was the secret of the vessel? But by closer examination of the young boy within the water, Harry could make out the jagged scar cut across his forehead, he had been marked _his _equal alright.

The situation had stumped him, the figures were making their way into an office that Harry knew only too well; the magnificent phoenix spread its wings at the entrance of the new arrivals, clearly many weeks away from burning day. The sorting hat was perched on the overstocked bookcase, years of wisdom stored beneath the folds in its material. He watched musingly as the younger Harry took a seat, and Hagrid began to speak rather animatedly- in fact he looked almost enraged at Dumbledore. _Odd, _Harry thought, _never in all my time had I known Hagrid to disagree with the Headmaster over anything. _However words could not be heard through the water and Harry instead focused his attentions on the younger Harry who was sitting with his head in his hands, looking rather worse for wear.

He took into account the large T-Shirt of Dudley's he remembered wearing on that day, his wind-swept hair and his trainers with more holes in the sole than rubber actually left. He felt a morsel of jealousy about this boy- he had his whole life ahead of him, he had every opportunity in the world before his very eyes, and he had no idea. He had no idea about the war, or what was to come, or what he could do to change it. No this child was not ready to be stripped of his innocence.

And then it hit him, his last rational thought before he raised his wand to his temple in a moment of despair.

'**_Oh he yearned for a chance to do it all again, there would be so much he'd change and so many lives he could save if he had just worked harder from the start'_**

A second chance, a chance for him to make everything right, to stop the war from even starting at all- these very wishes were on the cusp of his mind as his took his last breath. What if this was exactly that; a second chance?

He suddenly knew what to do, eyeing the young boy in the picture, feeling a small hint of uncertainty about what would happen to him when Harry entered his world. But with a resounding finality he knew that himself in any form or world would want this; a better start, an opportunity to save the ones he loved, even if he didn't know he loved them yet. He stepped towards the bowl, glancing at the scene beneath him, in which the adults appeared to have crowded around the young boy on the sofa. He closed his eyes and brown eyes and burning red hair swam in his vision and a brief smile touched his lips as he leant forward and made contact with the solution.

Harry settled on the sofa in Dumbledore's office that he had conjured with a slight flick of his wand, grateful for the softness of the seat after several hours perched on a hard leather surface. His tiredness crept over him in waves, hand in hand with the burning in his scar that had intensified during the walk up to the marvellous office. A brightly coloured bird soared over to Harry, resting on the back of the couch, head tilted in confusion staring pointedly at Harry's scar. Harry laughed quietly; he had become used to people staring at the cut on his forehead. In public other children would point and ask questions to parents who would stare at the unusual sight before admonishing their charges for being rude. In some cases, adults dressed in weird clothing had spotted it and began to blubber uncontrollably; asking for his autograph- to which Aunt Petunia would forcefully drag him away, muttering about freaks in dresses, leaving Harry to stare back at the figures wonderingly. But now, the intrigue about his marking had risen to a new level, even wildlife was peaking an interest. The creature straightened his head and began to croon a soft tune from its beak- the melody calming Harry, and causing the pain in his scar to ebb away slowly, allowing him to tune into the conversation that was happening around him.

"-great lump o' a boy, headmaster. And ter think they tol' him James and Lily died in a car crash! I was fumin' Sir, prolly shouldn'a done wha' I did but, well, he had it comin' Professor Dumbledore Sir" Hagrid babbled, oblivious to the apparent disconcert on the headmaster's face to learn about the condition as to which Harry was found. He turned his attention to the young boy on his sofa that had caught the attention of Fawkes, his phoenix only made himself known to those he deemed both trustworthy and honourable. He must have determined young Harry to be both.

The boy in question held his head in his hands, muttering to himself, words that Albus could not quite make out. He appeared to be in a small amount of pain and distress judging by the stiffening of his tiny body, and the almost inaudible moans that left his lips between verses of Fawkes' song. The headmaster saw him fall even before Harry himself saw blackness, and whipped out his wand fast enough to stop Harry from hitting the ground too hard. Hagrid was cut short of his tirade noticing the scene that was unfolding around him, rushing to Harry's side, as the phoenix's song cut eerily short.

"Harry!" The intermingled voices of concern of the two wizards mingled as they knelt by his side, Dumbledore waving his wand in intricate patterns above the young wizard who had begun to convulse and shake.

"Hagrid, if you would get Poppy that would be of great assistance. There is floo powder on the hearth." He turned his attention to the phoenix. "Fawkes, please fetch Severus, this is a matter of great importance."

The bird twisted in his place, a ball of fire erupting from where he was once hovering. Hagrid rushed as quickly as his stocky body allowed him towards the fireplace, clumsily grabbing a handful of the powder and coughing "Hos'ital Wing" into the green flames. Dumbledore held the young boy in his hands, the two of them left alone in his office, as the Headmaster poured his magic into the limp form of the child, trying desperately to discover the cause of the sudden turn of events. A crackle of energy sparked from Harry's form, causing Dumbledore to drop him to the ground in shock, staring at the boy before him as his bright green eyes flickered open. The boy took into account his surroundings with a hazy look upon his face, determining his location, before his face softened in understanding.

Emerald eyes locked onto Sapphire, a million words that needed to be said jumped between the two's gaze. A flash of green and the sound of stumbling feet, accompanied by the reappearance of Fawkes with Professor Snape in tow broke the silence in the room. Harry took each new arrival into account before resting his gaze back at the headmaster, a small smirk apparent in his features.

"Long time no see, Albus" He quipped, before his eyes rolled back into his head and once again, far too frequently for Harry's liking, his whole world turned black.


	4. Chained Truths

**It's 5am in the UK and I've become an insomniac who can no longer sleep and instead writes long into the night/morning. But alas this is the product. I'm back to Uni on Saturday so the updates may be a little slower as I have exams but hopefully around once a week is my aim. Please read and review? I love getting reviews and knowing people are actually reading this and taking time to say something! Let me know what you think :) **

The feeling returned into his body, it ebbed and flowed much like the magic that was swirling within him. It caressed each atom, and admired each living cell that made him up. In his mind's eye he could picture what was happening inside his body as he lay unmoving, in a hospital bed belonging to a school he had seen demolished before his very eyes. His magic burned fiercely, a shimmering shade of the brightest red. The colour of the blood he had seen spilled for the last years of war, the uniform he donned for years at Hogwarts. The flash of hair on the heads of his adopted family, and the auburn locks swaying in the wind of Ginny, and just out of reach of a chubby infant's hand of his mother, before the very same red stared at him from the eyes embedded in a pale face. Amongst the ruby streaked patterns of black; flicks of darkness staining the pure goodness of Harry's soul, unknowingly tainting him. The lava of red clashed violently with a sea of green; its power dimmed in comparison to the fire that engulfed it, yet it felt purer-cleaner. This magic had yet to be pushed against its limits; facing magic so dark it altered the very workings of one's soul. The union of these two forces combined so forcefully that golden streaks of light emitted from the site of meeting; phoenix song echoed, reminding Harry of the night in the graveyard of his fourth year. The two colours swirled gracefully in dance, gently touching and testing the other, before seemingly agreeing with one another. They combusted into a graceful mix of green and red, the golden arcs of light attacking the specks of black until a untarnished entity remained; a fountain of red leaves with specks of green trees in the meadow of Harry's soul.

His lightning bolt star glowed dimly in the darkness, dawn was slowly creeping into the Hospital Wing that housed its only summer resident- a sight never seen within its walls. The redness of the cut that had never seemed to heal correctly began to lighten, the scar fading until only a white line remained of the iconic symbol of the Boy Who Lived. Said boy was stirring in time with the rising sun, his eyes blinking away the moisture that had settled there in his unintended slumber. He felt like he had slept for days, the weariness of excessive rest he often felt when rising from a midday nap- often not knowing what day or year it was. Although catching these sleeps was a rare occurrence since they had gone on the run. The Battle of Hogwarts in the summer of what should had been his Seventh and final year at the school had ended in a massacre. Students of all ages remaining behind to endure the carnage rained down upon them by the hoards of Death Eaters Voldemort had managed to recruit it just over a year. The population of the wizarding world faced heavy losses that day, with almost an entire generation wiped out in the space of a few hours. The ones that remained included Harry and the Weasleys, amongst a handful of teachers and students who had fought tirelessly trying to defend the smouldering pile of rocks they once called their home. It was clear that the resistance at this point was futile- those who remained went quickly into hiding, disappearing behind rapidly erected Fidulus charms or fleeing from the country to places that were not involved in the war. What was left of the magical community of the light, was extinguished that day. It had sparked a year long journey for Harry, Ron and Hermione, who worked tirelessly hunting down the remaining Horcruxes to little avail. It was a huge test on their relationship, straining and stretching the boundaries of their friendship, with little time for rest or relaxation. No news received in that year was good, the Weasley family fell member by member until only Arthur, Molly and Ginny remained. They took no second to breathe, until that fateful day of Harry's 19th birthday that lead to him lying here right now.

Right now, in a body far smaller than he ever imagined he owned. He was unsure how he even _fit _in it, feeling the aching ribs and protruding hip bones that reminded him of the life he had before he left the Dursleys. _Well this is going to take a lot of Mrs Weasley sized meals to get me back into shape. _He shifted himself into a seated position, allowing the thin blanket to fall away from him, as every joint seemed to crack into place. _Maybe even Dudley sized portions. _He smiled in amusement as he realised what cubicle he had been placed in, the bed closest to Madame Pomfrey's watchful eye had become a frequent home to Harry during his schooling years. In fact he often joked to the Matron that he ought to get his name inscribed on the bed, which seemed far too often to house a scrawny boy with large glasses, often in various states of disarray. _Although, _Harry thought, _I think this must be some kind of school record. I haven't even been sorted yet- Sirius would be proud. _The enormity of Harry's situation had yet to hit home, although the absence of pain in Harry's head was a relief compared to the pounding he had felt before.

_This seriously can't be happening._

"That's it, it's final, I must be mad" He muttered into the empty room.

"Ah yes" A voice cut through the shadows. "Maybe so, but I'll tell you a secret, all the best ones are." A shimmer of magic rippled through the air, in the corner that Harry's eyes had seemed to slip over unnoticed, revealed the headmaster sitting comfortably in an armchair he must have conjured, based on the horrendous floral patterning on the overstuffed cushions. He held his wand loosely in his hand, the runes of the Deathly Hallows etched into the handle of the elder wand that had once been so fiercely sought after. The shadows under his eyes seemed to indicate that the headmaster had slept little, if at all, since Harry had passed out.

"What time is it Sir? And what day?" Harry asked, his voice croaking due to the lack of use.

He reached to the side cabinet where sat a goblet of water. As his arm lifted towards it he noticed a shimmering band of light pulsating around his wrist, chaining him to the iron cast of the bed, holding him prisoner. He looked questioningly up to Dumbledore, who was looking at him with much less fondness than he ever remembered.

"You have been asleep for a little over two hours, Mr Potter- at least, I will assume for now that is who you really are." He said. "I have several concerns over you right now, starting with how your magical readings are off the scale- your core tells me you are not eleven years old Mr Potter; at least, you no longer are. Which leads me to question, who you really are, and more importantly, why you are inside the body of a certain eleven year old wizard who earlier this day did not know about the magical world."

Dumbledore's eyes glowed dangerously, he had not yet moved from his casual position on the armchair yet Harry knew he could take him down in a nanosecond if he wished to. Harry cursed his stupidity- he had thrown himself headfirst recklessly into a situation he had not thought through; he was well aware he was about to come bursting into the office of the greatest wizard of their time, who admittedly would probably not react kindly to the apparent possession of the Boy Who Lived. He remembered with a groan the words he had uttered in half a mind before he keeled over; well that probably sounded rather suspicious, he grudgingly admitted.

"Sir, I can see what this looks like." He spluttered. "But I assure you, it's not what you think it is at all. I am Harry Potter. Maybe not this world's, in fact I'm not entirely sure what's going on myself, but I can promise you I'm not anyone other than me."

"I can see that Harry, I took the time with Madame Pomfrey to read your magical signature. It began as what we would expect to see in a somewhat above average witch or wizard ready to enter their first year, yet over the course of the day it has risen to unimaginable proportions- never seen in an untrained student." Dumbledore said. "I hope you understand of course, the precautions I had to take. It would be unwise of me to allow you to remain capable of escape when I do not know who you are, or what you are capable of. What bewilders me Mr Potter, is where exactly you have come from, if this world is not of your own?"

Harry sighed, he realised his abrupt appearance was ill thought out- he would have perhaps timed himself better by waiting for his return to the Dursley's in order to give himself a month of time to reacclimatise with his situation and prepared what to tell Albus when he arrived at school. Although clutching at silver linings he realised an extra month of time could only work in his advantage. He braced himself for the onslaught of questions that he knew were about to come his way.

"I am from the future, but I don't know whether it's the future of this world or that of another. As far as I can tell everything that has happened up until my eleventh birthday remains the same here as it did in my memories. Except meeting you, that never happened- but I expect there are going to be a few ripples in the stone I just threw into time." Harry urged.

"If you are who you say you are Mr Potter, how did you find yourself hurtling yourself back in time? Unless magical discovery picks up greatly in the future, I daresay this was an accidental occurrence."

Harry found himself looking down in shame, finally feeling the consequences of his actions. The despair and pain he felt in the moment when he lifted his own wand to his head clouded out any judgement he felt; if those left fighting in his time, as few and far between as they may remain, he'd left them alone-the last mind knowing of Voldemort's horcruxes no longer remained. He felt unable to form the words in his mouth the tell his mentor exactly the circumstances behind his actions, but as he looked up, with tears shining in his eyes, he met those of a man who understood what it was like to have the world's hope on his shoulders.

"It was selfish I know. But I had no choice, you had to understand. Everyone and everything was gone; I had no reason to live and I had no desire to remain trapped in a world where I was so weak I had to run and hide rather than go out there and confront him and finally live out that damned prophecy. I was so concerned about the slightest chance of defeating him that I watched the world burn and die as I crept in the shadows, when I should have just given myself to him from the start and maybe not so many would have died for me." Harry ranted the emotions he had kept inside for so long finally coming tumbling out. "I was desperate. I never for one moment imagined what was going to happen, least of all surviving. Unless this is some weird sort of Afterlife- I'm not really being sold it, being honest with you Sir."

"Very convincing, Mr Potter. However I still do not trust that you are who you really claim to be; a young boy who sat in my office has vanished from this world, and I will not desist until I can be sure of your identity."

Harry racked his mind; there surely must be something he could say that would convince his Headmaster who he truly was. The portrait of the Dumbledore was salvaged from the wreckage by Harry after the battle of Hogwarts, slightly singed yet still in working condition. He carried the painting with him in Hermione's extending bag; despite only holding a snapshot of Dumbledore's memories and characteristics, it still allowed Harry to converse with a semblance of the real man. He had spent many hours talking with his about his childhood; Harry realising painfully at the time that despite spending several hours with him, he had neglected to even considering asking Dumbledore of his own life and experiences, focusing on himself and his own tasks. It still amazed Harry to this day that Albus had lived such a rich and full life prior to his teaching career, but left no doubt in his mind as why he was such a renowned and revered warlock. He glanced at the wand in his hand- it triggered an onslaught of facts; the deathly Hallows, Grindelwald and the battle of Nuremgard, his relationship with the foreign boy and his childhood in Godric's Hollow. But all these could be picked form a history book by anyone who had half a mind to impersonate somebody else. But then it hit him.

"Arianna. She's who you see when you look in the mirror, the mirror that is in the halls of the school right now- The mirror of Erised." Harry stated, Dumbledore staring in an uncharacteristic state of shock. "When you look you see her happy, and laughing, just like how she used to before your father was arrested and before you mother died. You see her free and happy before the incident with the muggles, and living a normal life, just like how you always wanted. But you tell anyone who might ask that you see socks- because she used to make you socks, and sneak them into your room at night. Aberforth thought it was your house elf and would scoff at the gifts but you knew, and you kept every single one she ever gave you."

Dumbledore was lost in a state of disbelief, repressed images of his troubled teenage years haunted him still to this day, more than 60 years having passed hadn't dimmed the pain. He still thought of his little sister each and every day, and the guilt that still consumed him in his role in her death. He eyed the boy in front of him, there was no way he would have told that to anybody- he must have placed a great deal of trust in the man this boy would grow to become.

"I understand how it feels, the guilt, and the blame." Harry whispered. "If I wasn't in the picture so many would still live. And after seeing the last of my family and friends die in my arms, and because of my presence, I turned my own wand onto myself. The wand that was born to fight its brother found itself performing the very magic it lived to repel. I tried to kill myself Sir, to escape from it all."

Harry found himself unable to continue talking, grief beginning to grip his being, much stronger than the emotions he had ever felt before upon hearing the news of loss- he had become quite numb to death. But this was different; his best friends, his girlfriend and the only two people he had really seen as parents were gone. And this was pain likened only to that he felt after he lost his dear Godfather; it ripped into his heart and drew blood from the wounds already formed there.

"I see." Dumbledore concluded, rising from his seat in the corner and coming to stand above Harry. A slight flick of his wrist caused the bonds that chained Harry down to be released. "I can see from your pain that you are not a man to distrust. The killing curse is a powerful tool; it rips apart the very soul of an individual that can find it in them to utter those words at another living person. But to utter them unto oneself takes a great degree of desperation."

"I hope myself in your time took the time to explain the reasoning behind why you survived that fateful Halloween night as a baby?" He questioned, to which Harry nodded in reply.

"Yes, love. It is the most powerful magic that we will never completely understand; its capabilities uncomprehending to the characters who can use that curse without feeling a morsel of regret, including Lord Voldemort. You understand that it was love that saved you that night Harry, and it is to my understanding that it is again, love that brought you here."

Harry's brows furrowed in confusion. "How do you mean?" Dumbledore began to pace around the small bed, tucking his wand beneath his robes, freeing his hands.

"It is to my guesses that your actions, however desperate, were fuelled on a deeper level by love"

Harry flushed as he remembered holding Ginny's face in his mind as green enveloped him.

"Love provides protection against hate- and the curse that you turned upon yourself is driven by the callous hatred that remains in our world. Yet when you counteracted that darkness with the lightness in your thoughts, it must have triggered a reaction within your very soul. It appears that instead of tearing it apart, it has torn itself from its vector and instead founds itself a new vessel- yourself, several years in the past. I must ask Harry, how old were you when this happened?"

"Exactly eight years from today Sir. Well, yesterday now I suppose. It was my nineteenth birthday" Harry said.

"Well I must extend my birthday wishes to you Harry, as untimely as they may come. I have so many questions for you my dear boy, the enormity of our circumstances is not lost on me. But alas, I will leave them for another day. I expect you need a small while to get your bearings once again. Eight years is quite a large jump for an overnight stay. And you must need time to come to terms with all that has happened."

A flick of his wand vanished the chair from the corner, and another opened the curtains that surrounded his space, giving them a small amount of privacy, and cancelling the charms that had stopped them from being overheard. He turned back to the young boy who already seemed much older than his appearance, his eyes holding sorrow he knew only too well.

"The castle is yours dear boy, feel free to use it as you see wish. Your house Dormitory, of which I will foolishly assume to be that of your parents?" He mused, to which Harry affirmed. "Excellent, I hope to wish that with your second sorting you find your home again there once more. But until term starts you may select a bed from the tower, and as usual my door remains open. Grief is a terrible thing Harry, it colours our very soul, but it also reminds us of what it is to be alive, and to cherish our existence. Despite losing those you have known, remember that they are still alive here in this world- and when you are ready, you will meet again. The ones who love us never truly leave us, Mr Potter- you will always find them when you need it most."

He came to rest his hand upon Harry's head, his thumb brushing across the faded white scar, a musing he filed away in his mind to be asked when Harry was ready. Until then, they both needed time to think, and to establish what was to be done. But they had all the time in the world for that, they were a thousand steps ahead. It would be for the greater good for him to get some rest before he decided on a course of action; and before he had to face the wrath of Minerva who saw him levitating a bound eleven year old into the hospital the day before, and was ceremoniously repelled from entering the wing. Yes, he was going to need his strength to deal with the Scot when the time came. And goodness knows she was a Gryffindor by name and nature.

"I will let Madame Pomfrey know that her charge has been dismissed and is of full health, and I will inform the staff as to your living arrangements for the rest of summer- but alas, I will not tell them of your true nature of circumstances. I believe the fewer who know the safer this information is, in the wrong hands the safety of yourself would be greatly compromised." He said. "I will inform Professors Snape and McGonagall, with your permission, a revised version of events as to our meeting. Until you feel ready to decide who you want to discuss future events to, of which I will call a meeting with all those concerned in my office."

"Of course Sir, I understand. I think Hagrid deserves to know too, after all he is probably fretting like a Mother hen right now after the scene I caused." Harry said.

Dumbledore chuckled.

"He is known to take a rather maternal stance to those he takes a liking to; Hagrid's kinship is a privilege in itself, I will gladly enlighten him as to the circumstances. Although perhaps an advisement of staying away from hard liquor and the local pub may be in order until he learns to protect his thoughts, I dare say." He said. "I will arrange a trip to Diagon Alley for you to pick up any items you desire, if of course you wish to return to Hogwarts this year. At the very least I am sure you will be itching to be reunited with your wand again."

The older wizard turned to walk away, the infirmary glowing in the early morning light that had slowly lit up the room as they spoke. With a graceful swish of his night cloak he disappeared around the large oak doors, leaving Harry alone. He leapt immediately from his bed, remembering how much he despised being kept here as a student as Madame Pomfrey refused to let him leave until she was certain he had healed seventeen times over- he was eager to escape before she kept him trapped here. He spotted a pile of clothes on the nightstand; Dudley's rags had evidently been scrapped and traded in for smart jeans and a t-shirt, that despite being slightly large, fitted him much better than any other clothes he would have owned up until this point. His hand automatically went to the pocket of his trousers, feeling for a wand, and felt a small shiver of panic when he realised he was without any form of protection, his mind still frozen in the war, not yet latched on to the fact that he was now somewhere before it had even started. He was safe here.

He bounded out of the hospital and made his way North, rising higher into the castle, barely absorbing information into his overloaded mind as he headed in the direction he was intended. He skidded into the hallway, the portraits mumbling in annoyance as he woke them from their slumbers. He purposely trotted three times in front of a seemingly empty space of wall, until upon his third turn a small door appeared in the brick. He turned the knob and stepped onto the freshly mowed grass and deeply inhaled the air. A broomstick hovered invitingly close to him as he shut the door behind him and glanced up at the room that now resembled the meadow he so often flew in at The Burrow- down to the last tree. He lowered himself onto the broomstick and grasped the handle; he could think of no better way to clear his mind than a good old fashioned bit of flying- which had not done in a very long time without a murderous death eater playing the beater on his tail. And he certainly had a lot of thinking to do.


	5. Not all as it seems

A small gnome peeped from underneath an overturned flower pot, a small patch of soil sitting atop the potato-like head. It sniffed the floor for any signs of life, hazarded a small glance around and began to scuttle towards the cat flap in the back door. It drooled absentmindedly, the smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs wafted into his piggish nose- much more appealing than the peelings and waste thrown out at the end of the day he was usually treated to. He stuck his small head through the opening in the door, and threw his entire body through the threshold, running like a headless chicken towards the table. He barely had time to think before a soapy frying pan was making its way towards his head.

"RONALD WEASLEY GET THAT GNOME OUT OF OUR KITCHEN" The woman bellowed, swinging manically at the dazed creature

A small, bleary eyed ginger boy jumped ferociously at the table, still mourning his lost slumber as he was dragged early out of bed on the first day of August. Even the mountainous piles of food and the sun shining weakly through the dusty windows wasn't enough to get the youngest Weasley male fully into the land of the living. He stumbled into action, almost tripping over the offender as he made his way to the miniature man trying to climb up the wooden table leg, both away from the swinging metal and towards the feast that awaited him. Ron was used to dealing with the little buggers, they all had to work their chores, and being at home whilst his siblings went away to Hogwarts meant he had become very adept at lobbing the gnomes metres over the fence. He picked it up by the neck, and almost felt sorry for the little guy who reached his stubby arms back towards the table, growling and snarling at being so close to his reward. On an afterthought Ron snuck a glance at his mother, and whilst she wasn't looking sneaked a plump sausage into the little meaty fists. _After all, he did try hard._

He returned to the table once the gnome was dizzyingly waltzing back towards his company with his prize in tow, the rest of his family, bar his two eldest brothers, were sitting around the table tucking in to a cooked breakfast. Even his dad had taken the day off to accompany them to Diagon Alley to get his school things, his month's countdown couldn't tick away any faster as he thought of making his way to the magical school he'd been fawning over for years. But still the thought that plagued the back of his mind prevailed, what if he wasn't good enough?

"What's poor ickle Ronnikins thinking about aye?" One of the twins cackled. "Look mum, he's gone all pale, I reckon he's too ill to go to the Alley today, how about I pick out his robes for him?"

"Don't you dare George Weasley, or you'll be wearing my old schools robes this term, mark my words." She batted him on the back of his head lightly with a rolled up Daily Prophet, the main feature showed Nathaniel Nimbus and his latest model posing with the England Quidditch team, each member grinning manically holding the new model. "How are you feeling Ronnie? Are you feeling well?" She questioned her hand held lovingly up to her youngest son's forehead trying to gauge his temperature.

"I'm fine Mum, gerrof" Ron scoffed, batting under her hand and making his way to the table, filling up his plate to measures that should not be possible for a boy his age. He began tucking into his pile of sausages, before he noticed his little sister glancing at the small magazine that came weekly with the Prophet- usually harping on about some celebrity or other, and usually featured Gilderoy Lockhart smiling a nauseating grin on the cover. He noticed her small face glow a healthy colour that had nothing to do with the summer heat, and he spotted the title 'Presenting Potter' on the article.

"Checkin' up on your boyfend Gin?" He spat through a mouthful of meat, spraying specks everywhere.

Ginny flamed the colour of her hair and slammed the magazine shut, averting her eyes from anyone else at the table whilst the twins snorted at her woes. She looked at her breakfast with a renewed interest and focused desperately on eating, ignoring the buzzing in her ears. Arthur Weasley, noticing his little girl's discomfort sought to change the subject.

"Now boys, and girls, we need to make sure we're on our best behaviour today. I have a meeting this afternoon with the head of Muggle Relations that I need to get to, so we need to be sharpish. Ron, I will take Ginny and yourself to get your things, and Molly will take you boys around to get yours and let's not forget your owl, Percy."

The aforementioned boy barely glanced up at his father, his fork suspended mid air as he had his nose buried in a new book he had just bought himself; 'The Power of Prefects', his shiny badge even pinned to his worn dressing gown. The book smart Weasley had worked so hard for his first four years at Hogwarts that he knew he deserved this opportunity, and he was well on his way already to making himself prime candidate to Head Boy; he knew he could be minister one day, well maybe if he could shake off the stigma of being a _Weasley. _He'd be damned if that held him back.

"Tell us again Perce, you're not a _prefect _are you?" Fred drawled.

"No, no Freddie surely Prince Prefect here would have mentioned something about a little thing like being made prefect. Maybe the power has gone to his head, addled his brains, bamboozled his boggin." George joined in, grinning from glee.

"A real shame, Georgie, we'll have to loosen his tongue a little." Fred quipped.

Percy turned to scowl at his troublesome younger brothers; their endless mirth was lost on him, and opened his mouth to scornfully reply. Yet his mouth was too full, opening of its own accord, until a large sluggish tongue flopped from his gawping mouth onto the table, only stopping growing when it had slithered its way all the way across to Ron who sat staring in shock at the sight before him, whilst Ginny screamed in glee by his side. The twins jumped to high five, linked arms and began to dance in a manic circle in the small kitchen.

"It worked, it worked, it worked!" They sang.

It was then that Molly Weasley burst out of the shocked state she was in, boggling horrified at her son's tongue and his muffled screams of anger as his face contorted in wrath. The matriarch rose slowly from the table, wand jumping from holster to hand that was twitching in fury, causing the twins to hold onto each other tighter- but this time in fear. If one looked closely enough they would have _sworn _the twin's hands on the family clock edged ever so slightly closer to 'Mortal Peril' than they had been before. They turned to run, as blazing beams of light chased their ankles as they fled, failing to immobilise them so Mrs Weasley could emit the lecture that was burning up inside of her.

"FREDERIC GIDEON WEASLEY. GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY. MERLIN HELP ME IF I COME UP THERE AND CATCH YOU, YOU'LL BE CLEANING OUT THE CHICKENS FOR THE NEXT TEN YEARS." She bellowed behind the bumbling duo as they escaped their fate, cackling gleefully.

Arthur took his wand and muttered a few countercharms until _Finite Incantatum _finally did the trick, Percy's tongue shrinking and rolling simultaneously back into the teen's mouth, giving him the ability to talk and breath normally once again. He did not get so much as a thank you as the furious boy grabbed his book, twisted his badge back into place on his chest, and stormed out of the room without so much as a glance back, muttering under his breath about _pathetic idiots. _Arthur waited until he was out of sight before letting out a small giggle with his two youngest, who were snorting into their meals, hiding their mirth from their mother. He glanced at his two little ones, who admittedly weren't so little any more. He looked at his prized baby girl, his precious fireball who held her own against her army of older brothers, and was aching to join them this year with Ron too. Merlin knows she'd kicked up a storm when she realised that she'd be waiting an entire year on her own before she got to join Ron at Hogwarts. Arthur felt sorry for his daughter, knowing how much she hated entertaining herself on her own, preferring to surround herself with others in a crowd, _where she certainly knew how to steal it! _He didn't anticipate the day where she'd be out there facing the world all on her own, when Daddy was of no use to her any more. But right now, his little Griffin-roar, which he affectionately donned her when she accidentally transfigured her china doll into a roaring lion when she was only three, was his to coddle for a whole another year. Molly had been scandalised when she realised her daughter had made that charm irreversible.

Ron on the other hand had only a month to go, and by the way he was shovelling that food down his gullet, the house elves were going to have a hard time satisfying that appetite. He was sure his boy was going to grow into the man all his siblings were slowly becoming, _although at the rate he eats he might be getting there a little faster than expected. _He roused himself from his thoughts and rose from the table to locate and calm his jittery wife before she took down the Burrow before they could get their brood out of the house, and into the Alley. God knew, today was going to be a long day.

* * *

Across the country and across the border stood the sight Arthur may have seen if he'd of cared to glance out of his kitchen window as he passed his way through the house, perhaps, of course, lacking the be speckled boy who zoomed at unimaginable speeds between the trees and over the pond. Harry's mind had become so gloriously empty as he freed himself on him broom, his mind finally letting go of the thoughts that were dragging him under. Perhaps being this high took the edge off of reality, allowing him to think but not wallow, and to clear his head. _I could get used to this flying business again._ He thought as his toes skimmed lazily over the green body of water below. Maybe Ginny was enjoying swimming in it right now, maybe Ron was skimming stones over the same surface hundreds of miles away oblivious of the very pebbles Harry was skimming over time.

_Would they be the same person? Could they ever be the people they grew up to be? _Harry couldn't fathom, these people he'd built up such a relationship with didn't even know him- they did not share the memories, the feelings or the experiences he did with their shadows. He couldn't be sure what had changed in this timeline, it might not have been as parallel as he had hoped, and at least he knew where he stood when the two timelines ran in line with one another before he jumped into the picture.

_Will it ever be the same? _He mused. Even though he was an intruder in this world, the mere thought of his friend's souls not following him back in time made him angry at the younger versions of his closest companions. Harry was quick to reprimand himself; these people are your friends- sure they don't know it yet, and they may not be the people they will grow up to be yet, but it's still there. Heck he imagined even at eleven Hermione will still be smarter than him!

He directed his broom towards the exit of the room, he didn't know how long he'd been flying but his stomach was telling him it was more than time for a proper meal, and Merlin knows he'd missed the feasts the house elves whipped up. The last time he'd been here to eat he couldn't stomach the thought of food, as he said goodbye to his Headmaster, far too prematurely for his liking. He shrugged himself out of the sweaty shirt and into a fresh garment the room conjured at the touch of his thoughts, before making his way down towards the Great Hall. He took the time to admire each painting on his way, astonished at the sheer number of individuals who inhabited the walls and decorated the stones of Hogwarts. Some of the paintings must have reached their way backwards all the way to the time of the founders based on the quality, which seemed almost like it was melting in age yet frailly held together by wisps of magic. It was as he made his way off the seventeenth staircase and into the vast Hall that he noticed the intact house hourglasses, the coloured crystals floating gloriously at the surface of the containers, awaiting its orders from teachers and prefects over the coming school year. The four house tables had been replaced by a series of small circular tables, occupied by various teachers and their families. Professor Snape scowled as a small child, no older than three, ran over his black cloak, a small glowing sword in his chubby hand as he ran between the legs of the occupants.

"Keep your son under control" He hissed to the woman to his left, who in contrast was staring at the toddler with a look of compassion in her eyes.

"Oh hush down Severus, the lad's only playing." She admonished, tucking her wispy hair behind her ear and taking a sip of orange juice. She glanced up at the young boy, who seemed nervous to approach the table, and seemed very out of place in the huge castle in the middle of the summer holidays. She recognised him as the Potter's boy, she'd held him close as a baby, and he'd always enjoyed her transfiguring Sirius into the Buffoon that he was, as he bounded apishly around the tot. He'd always giggled at that. And as he peered up to the teachers she heard the breath of Snape catch in his throat as he dropped his spoon with a clutter, as the emerald eyes of Lily Evans met hers briefly, before looking amusedly down at the child who now held the sword as threateningly as a two foot boy could muster towards the new occupant.

"Fwend or foe?!" He bellowed at Harry. The older boy held his hand up in defeat as he claimed he was of no enemy to the young knight, who lowered his sword in approval, seeking around for his next victim. The black haired boy made his way to the table and smiled up at the teachers, who had somewhat returned to their own conversations, apart from the potions teacher next to her who still had not recovered from wherever that shade of green had taken him into his mind.

"Hello, Harry I presume?" The fair haired teacher enquired. When he nodded, she continued. "I'm professor Longbottom, I'm the Herbology teacher here, and my husband just over there he will be teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts. In fact I have a son around your age, he's just over there with his dad, I'll call him over."

She turned away from the table, her eyes searching until they landed on the stocky young boy talking to Professor Flitwick, calling him to join her.

"Neville come here, I have somebody I want you to meet!" She turned back to face Harry, trying to suppress the look of bewilderment on his face. "I know you won't remember me Harry dear, but me and your mum were really good friends here at Hogwarts when we were younger- in fact I'm not sure if you've ever been told, but I was appointed your Godmother when you were born, and your mum in turn took the role of Neville's." She smiled nostalgically at the memories, but Harry could see the pain in her eyes, understanding how so many people could be affected by the death of so few.

"Hey mum, I was just talking to professor Flitwick and he said because it's my birthday he's going to teach me how to do the Levitation charm early now I have my wand, how cool is that?" Neville babbled, his eyes lit in excitement.

Harry noted with a jolt how different this Neville was from the one he had left behind; the boy who was raised by his parents held an air of confidence about him that his counterpart did not achieve until well into his sixth year. The once plump teen did not hold any extra weight in this world; the young boy had the physique of a child who had grown up helping his mother in the greenhouses and flying for hours with his dad. However the biggest difference Harry noted was the light in his eyes- it was something Neville had never quite been able to switch on, always dimmed by the shadow of the family he never had. _August the first. _That's today- he was no longer the child marked as being born as the seventh month died, his family had never suffered the fate of his own on that fateful night. _Wait, does Voldemort even know about the prophecy here? _He'd have to ask the headmaster. _What differences were there here?_

Neville looked in his direction. A smile lit his features.

"Harry?" He asked, for once his eyes didn't glance towards Harry's forehead. "You probably don't remember me, but we were friends growing up, mum and dad talk about your parents all the time. It's nice to see you again." He extended his hand to Harry in greeting, gripping Harry's palm firmly when their fingers met.

"I'm sorry I can talk for longer, but I promised my sister Rebecca I'd take her down to the giant squid to say hello; I'll have to show you him some time, he's great! I see you've met my little brother Malcolm, he seems quite taken with you already."

At the mention of his name the small boy turned to the family and smiled a wide grin, his features bled heavily of his father, of whom Harry had only ever seen photos. His hand dropped the plastic replica of the sword of Gryffindor that he was holding as he sped to his mother's lap, nestling into her embrace.

Harry smiled as his young friend turned to collect his sister, who did not look much younger than Neville at all, and lead her by the shoulder out of the doors of the Great Hall. He reached down to fill his plate, groaning with appreciation at reacquainting himself with the glorious ability of the House Elves' cooking. He tried desperately to ignore the burning from the penetrating gaze of the potions master who had still been unable to tear his eyes away from the young man, unseeing orbs lost in a world several years from the past. He crammed the food into him until he thought his stomach was going to burst from the sheer abundance of food in his much smaller belly. _I'm going to have fun stretching this back out again. _He wiped tomato sauce from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand, and gently rose from the table, nodding in gratitude at the kindly woman who had spoken to him.

"Thank you Mrs Longbottom, hopefully I will see you later?" He asked.

"Now Harry, call me Alice when we're not in lessons. And of course, I would love to see you later at dinner; I will introduce you to my husband. He can tell you all about attending Auror School with your dad, I'm sure you'd love to hear about what they got up to. You'd think that he'd have grown up himself now teaching a school full of children, but he's just as immature as the lot of them." Her eyes betrayed her words, shining in fondness for Frank.

The interaction warmed Harry, pleased that his friend had finally got the finally he had always wanted and deserved, but still a pang of desire rung in Harry's heart for his own loss of family- time did not heal those wounds as well as he'd hoped. He made his way back towards the staircases, although still not ready to entirely talk things through with the Headmaster he wanted to enquire as to whether he would be able to make a trip into Diagon Alley that day. He had so much to buy, and his wand arm ached heavily for his weapon, feeling constantly weary without his means of defence. The route to Dumbledore's office ingrained in Harry's memory may have suggested that Harry was more of a trouble maker than first thought, however the trips usually consisted of more serious matters, delving into the past to piece together the history of Tom Riddle.

The granite eagle stood elegantly in the morning light, its beady eyes unmoving in their assessment of the young child stood in front of it. Harry grumbled, he of course should have asked the headmaster for the password- he just hoped the man's love of all things sweet was a Universal constant.

"Fizzing Whizbees. Chocolate Frog. Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Lemon drops. _Pumpkin Pasty"_

As the last name left his mouth the wings of the eagle began to spin, revealing stone steps attached to the base that swung as the eagle ascended, revealing the oaken double door. Before Harry could even raise his hand to knock they swung open, revealing the intricate office interior and a tired headmaster sitting at his desk, his long beard singed in places and one eyebrow was currently slightly on fire. Harry raised his eye questionably at the scene.

"Ah yes. Minerva has quite the temperament when provoked. She was rather upset that she was not made aware of the situation at once, she rather fiercely implied that next time I decide to make such a mistake the hair on my head will be the last of my worries." He chuckled deeply, unaware of the slow dissapearence of his left eyebrow, but seemed rather disinterested in the process.

"Lemon drop?" He offered, levitating the small glass dish of sweets towards Harry, who politely declined.

The office looked the same as it ever did before the war ravaged this castle's walls. The circular room donned hundreds of portraits of Headmasters old and new, some absent from their frames whilst others peered down curiously at the new arrival in the room- Phineas Nigellus Black set aside his book and looked intrigued at the boy. Harry's attention however passed over the withered sorting hat, perched on the shelf directly above the desk, and the numerous trinkets and objects glittering and whirring in all corners of the room, until it reached the Sword of Gryffindor in a glass case high above the shelves.

"The infamous sword of Gryffindor- came in rather unfortunate circumstances indeed. But nonetheless a prized artefact of the school, the student who pulled it out of the hat kindly donated it to be kept in the school for safekeeping until it is to be needed once more." Dumbledore said.

"Sorry to enquire, but can I ask what student pulled the sword out of the hat? Has the chamber been opened again already?" Harry asked.

"I daresay I'm not sure about what chamber you're speaking about Harry boy, but the student who summoned the sword did so in an act of immense bravery, protecting a class of third years from a Death Eater attack in their fifth year. That student was Remus Lupin; I imagine you may have heard of him being a friend of your parents, perhaps?"

Harry was stunned, who knew that the sword had made an appearance to his friend Lupin- but he supposed he did not have much time to speak with him before he died, and the timelines were beginning to lose the familiarity that Harry first assumed existed. It seemed the longer he stayed here the more he discovered the two worlds differed; he was wary to find out events that shaped this time worse for wear.

"Yes Sir, he was my Defence Professor in my third year and we remained friends after that. In fact he taught me to perform the Patronus Charm that year, which saved my life more times than I can count. Not just mine though I suppose" Harry replied.

There was so much he needed to know, but with matters at hand he knew he would not get very far at all without a wand back in his hand, and decided to broach the subject with Albus.

"I was hoping to go into Diagon Alley today, to pick up a wand and some supplies to keep me busy over the summer- and of course my Hogwarts supplies. Would it be possible to make that trip today?" Harry asked.

"Of course my boy, we can leave shortly through my floo, although I am correct in assuming that you wish to firstly visit St. Mungo's? I can only imagine that it has been some time for you since you last went." Dumbledore questioned, his eyebrow having finally burnt out, leaving half a wisped line of hair behind. He steeped his hands together and rested his chin upon them, glancing at Harry over the top of his half moon spectacles.

Harry was confused, indeed it had been several years since he last visited the hospital, but it had been lost to the Death Eaters like many of the magical institutions in Britain. The healer's lives being spared grudgingly by Voldemort, as long as they were not Muggle-Born, in order to have an army of doctors on demand to heal his troops- Tom could not waste time training another team to do the job, when one already existed. But there was nothing for him there.

"Sorry Sir, but why would I want to visit the hospital?" Harry questioned.

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses more comfortably on top of his crooked nose, and his eyes widen slightly in misunderstanding. He sank back in his chair, hands falling down to rest on the large desk in front of him.

"Well forgive me if I'm wrong Harry, but I thought you may have wished to visit your parents?"


	6. A Fragile Hope

"My… my parents? But. My parents, they're dead, they died when I was just a baby" Harry replied, shocked at the suggestion.

Dumbledore adjusted himself on his chair uncomfortably looking quite concerned at the turn of events, his half moon glasses slipping slightly over his crooked nose, his singed eyebrow still fizzing slightly.

"Well my boy, your parents are residing in the walls of St. Mungos ever since the day they were targeted by Tom- I can safely assume by your words that that has never happened in your world." Dumbledore cautiously replied.

Harry gripped the arm of his chair. It was quite clear that the direction of the two worlds were already splitting excessively far apart. Nothing was adding up as it did before, it was evident that Harry had been thrown back in time to a place that did not exist in his history- the Longbottoms were alive? Did that mean his parents suffered the fate that Neville's did in his lifetime?

"My parents are dead. They died when I was only a year old, protecting me from Voldemort himself. Did that not happen here?"

Dumbledore reached into his drawer, he pulled out a small vial that Harry recognised as calming drought- he swigged the contents and placed the empty vial on the counter, drawing a long breath.

"If you wish to know Harry, it is within your right. That fateful night of Halloween 1981- Tom ventured out to attack your parents, but he was reluctant to spill magical blood. He tortured them, the cruciatus curse was cast upon them until they were unable to speak or think. It was considered in your best interests to place you with your blood family, which is why you were placed with your aunt- you must forgive me, there was no other place to go. Your Godfather was arrested the very same night, attacking your parent's friend Peter Pettigrew"

"Sirius, he was there?" Harry asked. "Is he in Azkaban? You must know Albus, he is not guilty, he was framed for his wrongdoings. Please, if anything I can accomplish from my appearance it's making sure that Sirius is freed from that Hell."

Dumbledore froze. The young man he had condemned without a trial was of no wrongdoing? It could not be.

"How can you be sure, Harry?" He asked. "The evidence seemed undeniable, the proof overwhelm-"

"Overwhelming proof?" Harry questioned. "So no trial was proof enough to condemn a young man to a life of hell. You didn't even give him a chance! The only proof in front of your eyes was a chance to place the blame on somebody who didn't deserve it."

Dumbledore look like a deer caught in the headlights.

"You must understand young boy, Sirius was caught on a street in Essex wand in hand, surrounded by dead muggles and laughing manically. The world was consumed in fear of the rise of Lord Voldemort- the action of arresting him provided more comfort than anything to the wizarding world. I can only apologise if my decision was wrong."

Harry pinched his nose in frustration. Why would nobody, in either world, take his concerns seriously?

"Your decision was more than wrong Albus. You took away my one chance at a home- you threw away any semblance of happiness I might ever have gotten. You need to understand what you put me through. And Sirius. You KNEW what they were like. You KNEW what they were capable of."

Harry's magic pulsed, it flooded through his veins and out into the atmosphere- the colourless releases throbbed dangerously in the confined office, Harry clenching his fists in dire frustration. He rose from his chair, unable to deal with the conversation with his headmaster any longer- his love for the man was undeniable, but all frustrations he ever felt for him came bubbling over- now he had the chance to speak to the man once again in the flesh. He stormed to the fireplace and grab a large fistful of floo powder, turning to face his old headmaster, his young body looking almost comical in rage.

"I'm going to St Mungo's. I can't be here any longer, but when I get back we are going to talk about Sirius and exactly what we are going to do to get him out of that prison. While I'm gone it would be best if you figured out a way to organise a trial for a man you wrongly condemned. And whilst you're at it, get together a team- Peter Pettigrew is going to face his very deserved justice for what he did."

Harry threw the powder into the fire, the blazing red flames turning green as Harry stepped in. He took a deep breath, looking at the headmaster in both shame and anger- trying to understand where the misunderstanding had really begun. He swallowed, not wanting to make the mistake of his second year again, and cleared his throat. His shout of 'St Mungo's' resonated around the room, waking Fawkes from his light slumber and causing several of the previous headmasters to tut and scorn at the boy's behaviour. His slender form twisted within the fireplace and disappeared from view, as he fell through time and space to the magical hospital in the centre of London.

Harry's graceful descents from a floo journey had yet to improve over time- he fell from the hearth, catching his balance by grabbing onto the nearest chair- stained questionably despite multiple magical cleansing techniques. He took a moment to recover himself, stepping away from the means of transport that several disheveled witches and wizards were stepping from in varying states of disposition. A certain wizard holding a modified mobile phone to his ear was rambling excessively into the device, whilst busy medi-witches and wizards bumbled around the waiting room, tending to the streams of patients seated in the small area.

Harry made his way towards the reception desk, asking the vacant witch at the desk for direction to Mr and Mrs Potter. She sucked a lollipop slowly, almost considering the request made as a deliberate act of confusion and stupidity- not wanting to be disturbed from her previous crossword attempts in the Daily Prophet that she was engaged into. She sighed, taking a deliberate lick of the blood pop in her hand-

"Level five. Take the lift over there and walk down the corridor until you find Shaun- ask for the Potters." She slurred, holding her lolly from her mouth long enough to convey the information. Once finished she popped the lolly back into her mouth as she turned away from the young boy, reverting her attention back to the game on her lap, hidden from view of the patients in the room.

Harry made his way to the magical lifts, squeezing between a heavily pregnant witch and a gentleman who appeared to have sprouted another head that was continuously telling the other to head to the nearest pub to grab a much needed pint. The frustrated wizard appeared tired of the suggestions of the unwanted head, ignoring the pleas for alcohol in an appreciatively dignified manner. Harry quietly thought that perhaps the man should listen to the suggestions- God knows he could neck a pint or two right now.

"Level Five" The female voice echoed into the small lift, as Harry exited along with the pregnant witch, who Harry noticed was clutching her stomach lovingly. She delved quickly into the closest room, the medi-staff not batting an eyelid, indicating that her presence was frequent. Harry passed the forementioned room, that boasted a name plaque of Mr Smith on the door- Harry quietly mused if this family held any relation to Zacharias of Hufflepuff house- or if the generic name held no connection. He glanced into the room through the stained glass window. The pregnant woman was arranging some roses in a small vase to the bedside of the young man who appeared completely unaware of his surroundings. The woman held the limp hand of her husband in her hand, pressing it against her stomach, talking lovingly about the growing bump. Harry could only assume that the man in the bed had missed a large portion of the growth of his wife's stomach. It always seemed odd to Harry how little magical medicine was really able to cure in the grand scale of illnesses.

Sure, injuries and minor illnesses could be fixed by the wave of a wand and a mutter of words, maybe a potion or two, but major altercations were often deemed as untreatable. He shook his head to clear his musings, and tore his gaze away from the recent privacy of the small hospital room, and made his way to the reception desk, where an older man sat, his hairline balding but his face marred with laugh lines despite the stressful nature of his job.

He looked up at the approach of the young boy, and stared quite confusedly- he was not used to having visitors on the long term ward- most of the patients here either had nobody to come or had had visitors so long they didn't have to come to him for help. One look at the young boy told him exactly who he was here for; the eyes of the patient who he cared for almost every single morning for the last ten years when he began here. The messy hair and crooked glasses of the man who repeatedly attempted to prank him each and every morning. It seemed that despite not being able to recognise his friends, or feed himself, James Potter did not lose his inherrant urge to levitate necessary items high above the heads of the jittering interns- often glad they had such an easy start to their medical career. Until they met James Potter that is…

"Sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for the Potters, the receptionist suggested you might be able tp help me?" Harry enquired.

"Of course you are, you are a spitting image of the pair of them. Harry Potter I presume- I've been here for ten years and I was wondering when I would see you grace these walls." Shaun replied. He seemed almost angry at the young boy, perhaps due to the personal relationships he managed to build with the residents here at St. Mungo's- his one year placement had turned instantaneously into a career when he met the Potters on his very first night.

"Well I didn't realise my parents were alive, let alone here until earlier today. I came as quick as I could. Now if you'd please, show me where to go. I imagine we have a lot of catching up to do."

Shaun looked approvingly at the lanky child, his eyes seemingly older than his years. He nodded, and pointed down the corridor.

"Number 13, a double room, we didn't want to separate them. Feel free to go through, unless of course you'd like a escort?"

Harry scoffed.

"I'll be fine, don't worry."

He turned and made his way down the corridor, stopping himself from glancing into the rooms as he passed. His head only briefly peaked when he read the name Mrs Snape on room 12's door. Snape was MARRIED? This was certainly a thought for another time, as horrifying as the thought was, he couldn't help taking a small look into the darkened room. Despite the gloom of the atmosphere he could make out the auburn glint of hair tucked around the pale woman, whose face was marred with scratches and marks. Harry could only guess that if the woman was to open her eyes, orbs of green would stare back at him. Apparently love transgressed through time, maybe some things never changed.

He glanced over his shoulder. Shaun had ran to a patient's room to attend to their shouts, and there was no other attendant in sight. He slowly creaked open the door to the woman's room, edging his way inside and shutting the door behind him. He crept towards the bed, and looked at the bedside table which held both photographs and trinkets, obviously important to her. The moving pictures featured the red haired woman, dancing slowly with a smiling Snape- his eyes filled with more life than Harry could ever remember. He felt a pang of guilt. He really shouldn't be here, it was not his place. He turned to leave, just as the woman began to stir from her sleep reaching towards him, her eyes still stuck shut from her slumber.

"Severus please. Help me. I don't want to, please don't make me. Please. Please-" Her voice began to tremble as she reached even further from her bed frame, her slim arms coming away from the duvet. Her arms harbouring marks of past demons, another scar that magic could not take away, Harry backed away, feeling his presence was not warranted.

"Just like your father you are, Potter. An unquenchable thirst for things that are of no concern of yours. And just like your mother, how you are starting to run away from your problems. There is no reason for you be here, I think you'll find you'll find what you want in the room next door."

Harry leapt in his place, hand instinctively reaching for a wand he had yet to purchase, as the man skulked silently into the room- his Slytherin traits shining through. Harry flushed with shame, being caught peeping where he had no right to be.

"Professor Snape. I, I- I didn't realise. I'm sorry Sir, I'll leave now." Harry rambled, furious that he had been found sneaking among rooms he had no right to be in.

"That would probably be sensible. Get out Potter." His hand gripped tightly around the roses that he grasped in his hand, ready to replace the slowly wilting bunch on the bedside table, petals floating softly down onto the floor. The look in his eyes as glanced over his wife held none of the hatred he harboured for his Hogwart's students, but as he turned to face the Potter heir it was clear that the old death eater was still not a man to be messed with.

Harry ducked under the hand of the teacher, again realising quite how much smaller he was in this time compared to his old physique. He vowed to sculpt his body a lot earlier than he did last time, Hogwarts did not promote an exercise regime quite as much as muggle secondary schools did. In fact he didn't quite know how a lot of his year mates weren't getting porky with three cooked meals each and every day, perhaps he should introduce an exercise regime once he got back. It was always an advantage in battle to be able to duck and dive from curses, inability to sustain long levels of jumping lead to the demise of Lavender Brown in the Battle of Hogwarts whilst Harry could do nothing but stop and stare.

He reached the door to exit the room, Snape's back to him, tensed in anger at the appearance of the unexpected boy- especially the green eyes of the youth he tried so desperately hard to tear himself away from earlier that morning. It took everything in him to not travel one door further each and every morning to that of Lily Potter's room, to see her, to explain to her just how much he'd fucked up. He needed to apologise to her. But the only attempt he had made, resulted in a screaming Lily, her eyes frantically searching for something that did not seem to be there, her hands reaching towards an infant child that no longer existed. His presence reminded her of what she had lost- and in turn this reminded Severus of what he had caused, the betrayal of trust and kinship with his best friend; a lifetime of memories destroyed in one moment of power. He did not deserve her apology.

He turned to face the boy, who had made his way into the corridor and had rested his hand upon the door handle, pulling the door shut. He stopped at the last moment, choosing to look up at the skulking man- his eyes not filled with fear but- understanding? This young boy, who knew nothing of him, was pouring more emotions into his look than anyone other than his wife had ever harboured him. Even his son despised him, and what he had done to his mother. It seemed everything the man touched turned to ash. He was incapable of holding himself and others together.

"Leave Potter."

Harry accepted the request, tearing his eyes from the older man, barely in his thirties but had the head of a much older man upon his shoulders. He pulled the door shut, slowly releasing the handle and stared at the closed door for a moment or two. He heard voices, Shaun had come back to his station but was watching muggle football on a small portable television hidden under the counter, muted and silent in the ward. He glanced up at Harry, winked, and held up two fingers to indicate that his team was two goals up.

"2-0 Liverpool- we got this." He shouted, only then Harry noticed the slight Northern twang to his tone which justified his choice of teams. He smiled in return, paying back the thumbs up to the young man, who had quickly returned to the television, playing reruns from the live matches the day before.

He turned slowly. Number 13. There was no window on this door- and no way for Harry to see the inhabitants inside before he made his way in. The magically inscribed sign informed him that 'The Potters' lived within, and a small stag and doe had been carved into the wooden slate. Harry almost swore that every now and then a small wolf galloped into the frame then back out again. He placed his hand against the cold metal of the handle. He drew his breath, steeling himself for the sight of his parents within. He had dreamt of this moment all of his life- but never did he imagine it would ever happen. It was nothing but the mere fantasies of a young boy- the thought of his parents one day coming to save him from living hell with the Dursleys. But one push of a door, and everything he ever imagined would come true.

He drew a final breath, pushing open the heavy door and revealing the two sleeping occupants inside. They were placed on separate single beds, but seemed to have somehow migrated towards each other during the night, beds pushed haphazardly into one, and limp hands caressed each other's in embrace. Even in this state, their care for one another shone brightly. Harry closed the door silently, unwillingly to break this moment. His parents, alive and breathing, lay before him. He could not handle the intensity of love that flowed through his body- he desired nothing more than to embrace his mother and father in their beds.

He slowly edged forwards, not wanting to break the fragile embrace the two had formed but hungry for more. He understood entirely now why people compared him to his father, despite his glasses having been removed and placed on the table next to James, he held an undeniable resemblance to his young son. But Harry could see, even in sleep, that Lily held his smile, and she grinned peacefully as James gently squeezed her fingers. He looked around the room. Next to the peaceful couple was an entourage of photographs- featuring scenes from the pair's schooldays and family portraits of the three together- and the cat (looking rather forlorn sitting atop a transformed Padfoot). Lily's desk appeared full of pieces of paper- at first glance seemingly harbouring nothing but squiggles and scratches, but on second examination he was able to make out words, inscribed so deeply into the pages.

_Harry. Harry. ._

Over and over, his name was written, screamed and painted onto the paper canvases- a mother unable to let go of her baby boy. She knew what had been taken and she was unwilling to let it go. Despite suffering the pain of watching her husband succumb to the cruciatus, then being held under it herself for over ten minutes, she had still not forgotten her infant charge. Medi witches and wizards alike became accustomed to the ever increasing mutterings of her son's name, as they all internally wondered why the said boy never came to visit his parents, but never voiced these questions to one another. After all, if the boy who lived was not here, there must be a good reason for it. Never in their wildest dreams would they imagine the setting he had been raised into.

But here he was now. And he could not help but the close the distance between himself and his parents. He itched to touch them, were they real? Surely this was something of his dreams. A cruel reminder of what he could not have- a family. He approached his dad first, whose bed was closest to the door, and gingerly touched his shoulder. Warm flesh. It was real. He was really there. He slept exactly as Harry did, one leg curled on top of the other, and flat on his stomach, arm extended towards his wife. Each time he moved, he gripped Lily's hand tighter, almost as a reassurance to them both that he was not going anywhere. As he shifted his weight Harry noticed a photograph tucked underneath him, which Harry carefully plucked out, sitting down silently onto the worn chair perched in the corner of the room. The photograph was losing its movement, it was so over handled that the colour was beginning to fade from the edges. An infant Harry was held in the arms of his mother, who in turn was held in the arms of her husband. Sirius stood behind the two, making bunny ears of the couple, who were too concentrated on their son to notice. Slightly to the side a young and better fed Remus Lupin laughed merrily at the antics of the others, a wolfish grin on his face, as he held a small wolf teddy to Harry, whose chubby fists grabbed the plush eagerly, adding it the collection of the stag and dog toys already in his hand. Harry could just make out a discarded rat toy on the floor, evidently thrown away by the toddler. Harry turned it over, the back of the photograph has been written on so many times that Harry had to squint to determine what had been written.

Traitor.

A thousand times. A million times. The word had been written anywhere where white was available to be tainted. He still knew- he knew he had been betrayed. But the rat was not present, who was to know who James was walking about. As far as the public knew, he meant the childish man, barely out of his teens, laughing manically in the frame. Harry had never seen a photograph of Sirius and Remus with his parents and him, they looked so happy- and carefree. It hit him with a jolt at that moment when he realised that his parents would have been married and with a child not much older than him when he left his world- they fought a war, faced Voldemort three times and still bore a child before the time they were 20. They died before they ever were really able to live. But Harry had to remind himself that here- they were not dead. They were very much alive.

He placed the photo on his dad's bedside table and sat gingerly on the bed. The digital clock in the corner beeped gently, telling him it had just passed 11am. The soft sound caused James to stir, evidently no longer able to sleep into the morning. He opened his eyes blearily, staring at his wife, not noticing the young boy sitting directly behind him. He smiled, and a soft giggle escaped from his lips. He reached his open hand across and stroked her falling red locks from her eyes, causing her to awake from her light slumber. Her eyes met James' and smiled in fondness, before scanning the room. She locked eyes with her son, the boy from her fantasies- and despite not having seen him for almost ten years, she knew right away who the young man was.

"Harry, Harry, Harry" She slurred, both excitably and questioning. She sat up in her bed and began to clap, pointing to Harry's position. James seemed unfazed by his wife's behaviour- since that fateful night the only word she managed to form was that of her son's, It was not an odd occurrence. James on the other hand, had a slightly larger range of vocabulary, tending to alternate between screaming 'rat' and 'traitor' before transforming into joining his wife with her mutterings of 'Harry'.

He turned lazily to where his love was pointing, humouring her as well as himself. His eyes narrowed when they locked onto something physical, rather than the shadow of her son that Lily usually conjured. He rose slowly from his bed, adjusting his loose pyjamas as he stood and walked towards his son, who had slowly risen and backed away once he was spotted. Harry stood frozen, both in fear of what his parent's reactions to his presence would be and confusion about the extent to which his parents had suffered.

James' eyes looked crazed as he neared, beginning to mutter 'Harry' once more. He knelt to the ground before his son, and began to feel him, from his knees to finally his face. Looking horrified that the boy in front of him was no longer a figment of his imagination- he was everything he thought the young lad would be. Down to the pigments of colour within his emerald eyes.

He grasped Harry's hands between his own, whilst his wife rocked slightly on the other side of the room, her shouting of Harry drawing no attention or concerns from the medics outside. Harry unfroze, realising that this was a moment he had been waiting for, for his entire life, and grasped his father's hands among his own.

He stared up into his father's hazel eyes.

"It's me dad, it's Harry."

James eyes lit in excitement- he _knew _his son would come back one day. His baby boy, all grown up. Harry reached out with his magic, both intentionally and spontaneously, intermingling with the murky depths of the mind of his father. James' magic had been battered and crumbled in many places, the strength of his power becoming the fragile bindings of his own mind. Harry's pure magic reached into the forest, comforting his father, and pulling at the bindings that held, questioning their strength.

James squinted slightly at the intrusion in his mind, but after years of experimental healers attempting to fix his inner workings, he had become accustomed to the fiddling. In fact, the familiar magic of his kin felt comforting to him, it began to clear his hazed mind, neurons making connections and firing signals in places that he thought could not be redeemed. Electrical impulses fired from every cell, his nervous system firing up to levels he had not felt since before Halloween of 1981. He closed his eyes, embracing the sharpness of his mind, still not completely able to remember who or where he was, until he opened his eyes and stared into that of his son's. It finally made sense- everything that had happened had been for this boy in front of him, who had lived and grown up, as they always wanted. Years of healing held nothing to this moment. He steeled his breath, he was able to speak more than he ever felt he could again. His family was complete once more.

"Harry, my son. I have missed you so much."

Harry swallowed. He had imagined this moment. His father was holding his face in his hands, speaking words to him that he had not conjured from his blurred memories as an infant, questioning their authenticity. He glanced at his mother, she had stopped rocking and stared lovingly at the scene before her, calmed by her two favourite boys reunited once more, although still quite unsure about the situation.

"I've missed you too, Dad."


	7. A Sirius Thought

Albus stared into the penetrating gaze of the young boy, his hand clasped around a fistful of floo powder, and a lifetime of words upon his lips. He seemed to steel himself and turn away, facing back to the headmaster with a look of anger and shame upon his face- Albus felt the world fall through his grasp. Leader of the light and an _eleven year old _boy was able to make him feel as though a ball of ice had slid down his throat into his stomach. He watched the boy shout, and twist away in a twirl of blinding green light, before being brought back to attention by the mutterings of the paintings of his predecessors. Fawkes sung gently in the corner, sensing his companion's unease, and bringing Albus back to the present moment.

He sat back in his chair and steeped his fingers, pressing them underneath his chin as he thought. Certainly the situation with Black had been resolved, it had been obvious- James had informed the Order of their choice of Secret Keeper. And the lad's family history of dark magic left little to be questioned when the verdict was decided; his mother even spoke happily to the Prophet about her son becoming the man she always hoped he would be, untainted by the likes of the Potters. Yes it was quite clear when they found Sirius on that street, cackling for the world to see, that he had caused this mess. The manic look in his eyes was that of a man that knew he had lost it all.

But what if he lost all that he loved? He knew the Potters had been killed, but he _knew _Harry was still alive, as he spoke words with Rubeus before he set upon his journey to find Peter. Surely a man who had set out to do Tom's work would have killed the boy, or taken him to his master, rather than ensuring he was safely transported on that cold Autumn night. The more Albus pondered the more it did not make sense. He flicked his hand, adept at the ancient and often forgotten art of wandless magic, a trait most useful in combat, summoning his Pensieve towards him. He made a mental note to add the theory to the DADA curriculum for the NEWT students of the upcoming year- his ongoing attempts to revolutionise the Defence agenda at the school had been long thwarted by Lucius Malfoy- perhaps now the Boy Who Lived was returning to Hogwarts the governors would understand the need to increase the depth of the student's knowledge in reminder of the war.

He placed his hand against the rune carved into the bowl, his hand pressing sharply into Purisaz- the rune of knowledge, where he stored all his memories as a teacher of Transfiguration and Headmaster during his career.

"Sirius Black" He said deeply into the empty room.

Images rose above the shimmering surface and spun, students of his past flashed before his eyes before they were discarded back into the liquid. A small pile of flickering moments stored themselves to one side, until only those that involved Sirius remained- which, Albus had to admit, was decidedly more than most of the students he had taught. The antics of the young Marauders had caused four certain young men to grace his office marginally more than their peers, his first era of a headmaster tested by their unquenchable thirst for mischief. And, although he would never admit it to their eagle eyed head of year, it absolutely thrilled him. He started from the beginning, choosing a memory Sirius' first ever visit to his office, the very first week of his first term.

_A small chime sounded, indicating that somebody was climbing the stairs to his office. He glanced at the small glass orb floating by his desk and spied Professor Slughorn accompanying a young boy with long black hair, and red trimmed robes into his office. A small rap echoed from the oak door._

"_Enter"._

_Horace pushed the door and placed a gentle arm on the young lad, coaxing him into the office. The boy would not make eye contact with the Headmaster, instead opting to stare fixedly at the floor. Albus turned to the potions master with a questioning look._

"_Sorry to bother you Albus. I had just finished teaching the fifth years when I saw a group of Slytherins bothering the young Black boy here. I sent the offenders to Minerva, could still hear her hissing halfway down the corridor." _

_He chuckled darkly, remembering the feline hiss she emitted when she found out one of her new 'Lions' had been subjected to bullying already, not even three hours into the first term. A surprisingly neutral head of Slytherin house, he showed little to no favouritism to the green robed students- although it was clear he honoured their abundance of cunningness and ambition, their numbers at the famous Slug Club gatherings were slowly rising. _

"_Thought the boy might need to see someone other than me, I'll leave him in your capable hands Albus."_

_He turned his plump figure, adourned by robes of the highest quality, trimmed with Unicorn hair, and exited the room, not before squeezing the shoulder of the young boy comfortingly. He turned to face Albus before he left, giving him a meaningful glance. Albus read the meaning well- he needs help Albus. _

"_Young Mr Black, take a seat." He spoke softly to the shaking boy, who finally glanced up. His dark eyes shone with guilty tears that it was apparent he was reluctant to shed. Albus often found that in the young of the purebloods they found it a great weakness to express emotions that made us only human; often taught that opening yourself up to anybody made you a target. _

_As the young boy took a seat Albus remembered how shocked he was, along with the rest of the school and staff, about the fate of the child's sorting the night before. Fully expecting him to follow his family's legacy into the house of snakes, he had to look in surprise when the hat finally shouted Gryffindor. The young lad himself also looked quite frightened until further into the sorting when the young James Potter had followed his footsteps and sat down excitedly next to him. _

"_Now if you could tell me what happened today?" He probed, not wanting to upset the child further._

"_Bella wasn't happy with me. Said I should be in Slytherin like the other _respectable _members of the Black family." His voice scorned over the word 'respectable', his eyes rolling in his head. _

"_And you do not agree with your cousins suggestions I presume?"_

"_I'm not the same as them, I never have been. Dear old mum isn't happy though, sent Kreacher with a howler this morning in front of the whole school. Although I expected worse really, poor Uncle Alphard got a face full of poxies when he got sorted into Hufflepuff." _

"_What makes you say you're not the same as them?"_

_The young boy looked up to him, the growing bruise around his eye slowly darkening, and the burns from powerful curses ripped holes into his otherwise impeccable robes. His eyes held none of the darkness that rose from that of other members of the Black household that Albus had to call into this room, his body language spoke of a Soul that needed help to resist the darkness that was trying to overcome his inert light. Perhaps the friend he would make in his house would help him to become the person he wanted to be. _

"_Because how can I judge somebody based on who they were born to, when I know you damn well can't change who your family are?"_

The image fizzled and died, the remaining images spun in place until Albus reached further forward in time to a barely teenage Sirius, just starting to grow into his sturdy adult frame, his voice much stronger than the child that he had just seen. This time he was not alone.

_A mortified looking James Potter and Sirius Black were being escorted to the office with the small form of an indignant looking Professor Flitwick. He dropped them off to the gargoyle with a handwritten note, before rushing back towards the Charms Classroom, muttering under his breath. They rose the stairs in comradeship, wishing that they didn't have to enter the office of the ever-knowing headmaster in this state, quickly elaborating stories in quiet mutters before they reached the top of the stairs. They gulped as the door clicked open without being pushed, and entered the room, meeting the amused gaze of the Professor. _

"_Mr Potter. Mr Black. I imagine there's a good reason behind your current appearance. I would love to hear it. Lemon drop?" _

_The boys reached eagerly for the sweets that their favourite teacher offered them every time they entered, unless of course they overstepped the line, they knew they were in trouble when he did not offer them the aforementioned bowl. Of course they had quite the trouble grasping the sweets. Sirius' paw could not quite grasp the shape in his grip, bashing his head on the giant antler protruding from James' skull, as he used his remaining good hand to access the sweets. Though he had more difficulty reaching the sofa using one human leg and one of a stag, hobbling comically. _

"_Well you see Headmaster, Sirius and I here were just having a friendly duel. Trying out our new transfiguration skills, we got slightly carried away, and a lot of the Charms classroom may have ended up floating out of reach of Professor Flitwick when he found us."_

_James sucked on the sweet, making sure not to look the headmaster quite directly into the probing eyes, instead turning to face his best friend, discreetly nudging him with his hoof, making the taller boy almost choke._

"_Yes, yes dear Minnie was quite impressed at the human transfiguration but what could we say, after all we are her favourite students. She was enthralled at the sheer detail of my tail." He demonstrated by wagging the tail between his legs vigorously. The all black limb poked out of the young student's robes and looked highly absurd behind the human form, apart from of course the shorter canine limbs he now sported for arms. _

_Albus chuckled slightly as he waved his wand, the boys limbs returning to their original form, and Sirius' wagging tail slowly receded back into the backside of the young man who squinted slightly at the odd sensation. _

"_Was Mr Lupin involved in this spontaneous duel by any chance? I imagine his charms skills must be on par with mine with the altercations he must be required to fix by now"_

_James and Sirius chanced a swift glance at one another, both understanding that Remus most definitely did not know what they were up to. Their friend would murder them as they slept- which made the whole thing just so much more exciting._

"_Ole Remmy was down in the common room with Pete helping him with his Potions essay. Can't say he's ever seen us in quite an state before, we really exceeded ourselves didn't we Sirius?"_

"_I must agree James. You certainly looked spiffing with those antlers. Lils wouldn't be able to resist your charms with those beauties."_

_Albus chuckled quietly at the slight colouration the young Potter's cheeks turned at the mention of his crush. Oh young love, it had been years since he felt that fire in his chest. He knew the boys were not telling the full truth, but the incident seemed decidedly minor in the grand scheme of destruction the two could cause when unsupervised together. _

"_I most certainly agree that the additions befell you both boys. Now I suppose you have better things to do than keep an old man company, back to your common rooms with you."_

_The boys laughed gleefully, and rose in tandem, and made their way down the stairs that were becoming just a tad too familiar. _

"_Bye Professor!"_

_As the door creaked shut behind them they raised their fists together in a secret handshake they had concocted in their first year, impish smiles lighting their features, the thrill of getting away with something filling them up. Of course, they had been working all year on their animagous transformations they simply couldn't get caught yet, not when they had made so much progress today. The thrill of their first successful transformation had been thwarted by the chime of their supposedly secret hideaway being opened by the small charms teacher. _

"_Good work Prongs" The new nickname still sounding foreign on his tongue._

"_Got nothing on you Padfoot, come on lets go see what Moony is up to." The nicknames had become something of a secret language between the two who did not want Remus to figure out what they were doing when they pretended to head to the Quidditch pitch for some extra training most nights. Peter joined them occasionally, and was making poor progress on the process of a whole. Remus would still be so happy to find out when they were all successful. _

Flicking even further into time, and Albus was becoming increasingly confused. He had not visited these memories since the night Sirius was caught, and on that occasion they only increased his anger at the man and his betrayal, rather than making him question his decisions.

_The blood stained robes of four young boys, and the frightened face of one, as they sat in his office after the wizarding world had taken a turn for the worse. The death eaters had infiltrated the last Hogsmeade weekend of the school year, but despite their best efforts the actions of the older years had changed bloodshed into one of the most heroic acts of students this generation had ever seen. The baggy robes of a particular skinny young man masked the scarred face of a boy that had experienced pain unknown to anyone his age. His hands were cut and bleeding, covered in makeshift bandages hastily conjured by the Longbottom student during the heat of the battle, grasped strongly around a glinting hilt. _

_Rumours had surrounded the sword, and its existence, but like much of the founder's treasures it remained merely a myth of history. Yet Remus Lupin sat in his office holding onto the sword of Gryffindor, shining in the weak summer evening, the drying blood of its victims slowly turning brown. Lupin did not hold the face of a warrior, instead seemed to be facing the aftermath of the battle, the adrenaline leaving his body and leaving behind the realisation that today he had taken his first lives. Admittedly, Albus knew this time was coming, as the war was raging with a growing intensity around the sanctuary of the school. Yet he hoped his students would not have to face a battle of sorts until they were fully prepared in their magical education. He would never be the same after this day. Albus recalled how long it took him to come to terms with the first people he killed. Even James Potter and Sirius Black looked forlorn, but held their heads strongly._

"_Professor, it was honestly all down to Remus we made it out alive. The third years would never have made it out alive, they showed up out of nowhere. One second we were drinking butterbeer and the next they had us surrounded." He glanced nervously towards Sirius. "Bellatrix Black was their leader it seems, Sir."_

_Sirius had taken a steeling glaze, his eyes fixated at the flickering fireplace as he heard the name of his cousin, his head hung in shame. Despite spending the first five years of his time at Hogwarts distancing himself as much as possible from the stigma of his name, he still felt ashamed to be associated with the actions of the members within. _

"_Yeah!" Peter piped up eagerly, having spent the entire battle quivering underneath an upturned table, rather than helping the younger years. "Remus was awesome! Your phoenix appeared out of nowhere and flew straight over to him, Remus reached in and pulled out the sword. The death eaters were too shocked by it to even react when he swung and just chopped them all into little piec-"_

"_Stop." Remus' voice echoed around the room, holding power in its tones. "There's nothing __**awesome**__ about killing anyone Pete, I took away their __**lives." **__His voice laced with the disgust he often reserved for talking about his 'furry little problem'. _

_Silence filled the room, James and Sirius looked almost too concerned about their friend's mental state to rebuke him and to tell him that this was war, and this was what eventually had to happen. Sometimes death was needed in order to make the world a better place, even if it broke the souls of those that had to pull the trigger. War changed everyone and everything. They looked to their headmaster for advice._

"_Sometimes, Mr Lupin, the best of us most make the hardest decisions in order to do the right thing. I know it is hard to stomach, and it will take you time to understand your actions, but what you did was an act of immense bravery. Without your actions Hogwarts would have lost many bright young minds today. Without your actions, we would be laying to rest a whole host of children, who looked to you for help. You will one day understand that we must sometimes do the unthinkable in order to help the Greater Good- as much as it pains us to do so. I can see from your reaction that you regret your actions which show your soul is whole, pure. To feel remorse for the action of killing shows us we are human- __**fully human.**__" He emphasised the term human, understanding that the boy still held great hardship coming to terms with his condition- however he had seen a remarkable improvement since the boy's third year for reasons he felt unable to share. _

_The young man looked up to him in thanks, his words comforting the moral battle that was currently being fought within his soul. Sirius Black raised an arm and placed it over his friend, providing comfort. James then spoke up._

"_Sirius was amazing too Sir, without his shields the whole pub would have fallen down around us. He even vanished Bellatrix's lips when she wouldn't stop taunting him about his family!"_

_Sirius looked down in embarrassment, evidently proud of his actions but also ashamed that a member of his own family lead the attack. He had really shone that day, he know knew that he wanted to be an auror- the faster this war was over the quicker he could live his days in peace. _

"_I think it's safe to say that the actions of all three of you contributed to the safety of the younger years before the teachers could make an appearance. You will all receive 100 points apiece for Gryffindor. And Remus, a Special Award for Services to the School."_

_James and Sirius looked delighted, but Remus seemed torn. He did not know how to react for being rewarded for killing, but the monster within him reared its ugly head, satisfied with the blood that he shed today. Albus glanced discreetly at the other boy in the room, Peter Pettigrew, who's actions today in no way mirrored the bravery of his housemates who represented the house known for its Valour. Despite being secluded from the honours he seemed pleased to be in the presence of these powerful figures who could protect him, his eyes filled with awe at the actions of his friends, not acknowledging his own absence in today's stunts. But as Sirius turned to James and began to shake his hand in their own secret routine, Albus noticed a small glint of jealousy flash in the weedy boy's eyes. _

He was intending to stop there, when a final image flagged hovering above the pensieve. One that he found most intriguing and certainly thought provoking, the night Sirius Black came into his office after the near deaths of both Severus Snape, and the unintentional involvement of James Potter.

_His form sagged on the sofa, Albus had never seen Sirius Black in this way, not since the beaten body of his eleven year old self entered his office on that very first morning. He was shaking, his hands uncontrollable on his lap and his eyes sprouting tears that he had held behind closed doors ever since his first trip to the office. _

"_I swear Professor I never intended for anyone to get hurt, I was just joking around when Sni- Severus heard me mention the whomping willow. I didn't even think about what would happen."_

"_And yet so much could have happened. You know best the reason behind the whomping willow's appearance on the school grounds, to protect your supposed best friend. However this is not the action I would have expected of a best friend."_

_The words seemed to hit Sirius hard, he curled up even further, his hands gripping the hair on his head even more tightly. The hurt look Remus gave him when he found out what had happened that morning when they saw him cut him deeper than anything he had ever experienced- even being casted off the Black family tree didn't affect him this much. He couldn't believe how far his actions had taken him, he truly wished he could go back in time and take it all back. He didn't want for anyone to get hurt._

"_I understand yourself and Severus are not on the best terms, there is rivalry between every year group in the school, particularly Gryffindor and Slytherin. However this time it has been taken too far. You do understand that Severus would have been killed if it weren't for the actions of Mr Potter?"_

"_Yes Sir. I completely understand. But I never intended for that to happen, I didn't realise the enormity of my words until this morning. I never wanted anyone to get hurt, including Snape!." His eyes were manic, darkening around the edges and darting feverishly around the room. It was clear that this was not the character of somebody who had set out to injure another, but Albus had to ensure that he would never repeat this mistake. _

" _I understand that your intentions were never for somebody to be hurt or killed. But the nature of your friend's condition has been made public, and if Severus chooses to share that information that is entirely out of my hands. You do understand that your actions have compromised everything that Mr Lupin and I have set up to protect him?"_

_Sirius hung his head in shame. He had not only endangered James' and Snape's lives but now Moony's secret was let out, everything they had worked so hard to protect had been for naught._

"_I understand, Sir."_

"_Good. But for your actions, 50 points will be taken from Gryffindor. And you will spend the next month in detention with Mr Filch."_

"_Yes Sir." Sirius replied, his voice weak with shame._

"_It is to my understanding that Mr Potter has not yet been released from the infirmary. I will-"_

"_WHAT?" Sirius interrupted, rising to his feet, his eyes glazed with concern. "Prongs is hurt? What happened to him? Is he going to be okay?" Sirius had begun to close the distance between himself and Dumbledore, his magic shaking the desk slightly, showing his emotional distress as learning his friend had been injured. _

"_James will be fine. He miraculously only suffered some cuts and bruises, but is oddly complaining about a pain above his head where it does not extend to. Madame Pomfrey is reluctant to release him, however I have heard news of three escape attempts already this morning." He chuckled slightly, knowing all too well the complaints of students who had been kept in the Hospital Wing far longer than they wished under the watchful eyes of the patron. _

"_I need to see him Sir, I need to make sure he's okay to explain-" He stopped, unable to voice the words he was trying to form. _

"_I realise you understand the enormity of your actions Mr Black. Remember in the future, acting in spite of another may lead you into much more dire circumstances. Be glad you had Mr Potter around to stop this situation getting any worse than it already did."_

"_Believe me Sir, I'll never stop being grateful to James and all that he's done for me. I couldn't live without him."_

The image faded, sucked back into the pool of thoughts in the concave dish, and muted. The office was silent. Albus sighed. The last memory fazed him- he saw the concern and regret in the boy's face when he realised that James might have been hurt. A man that feared that much for his friend could not have suddenly have, four years later, betrayed him to the man he fought against with the Order? He began to question the belief he had held onto for the last ten years, the reason young Harry was placed with the Dursleys and the reason the Wizarding World slept soundly at night- the man that betrayed the Potters was safely locked away. But what if he was wrong? All they found that day was a finger, and perhaps even the police of their world jumped to conclusions in haste of the emotions of that fateful day- wanting everything involved with Voldemort's reign to be conquered on sight- so the world could finally celebrate. Of course in hindsight it seemed almost comical to assume that the only reasoning behind the disappearance of most of his body, the only logical conclusion was that Sirius had evaporated the rest of it in rage. _Maybe Harry was right, maybe he didn't give him a chance._ Even during his time in the holding cells at the Ministry he brushed away his insistence of his innocence.

He had seen the insistence in the young man's eyes that he was not going to fall into the footsteps of his family name- and he had proved himself time and time again that he was fighting in the name of the light. Perhaps, he was wrong.

He picked up a quill and dipped it thoughtfully into the ink, penning a quick note. He would have to construct a well thought out team, bringing together only those he trusted in his entirety for this task. He could not risk this, they needed to do this properly and secretly, so the rest of the wizarding world did not find out. He raised his wand and duplicated the note into six identical letters.

"Fawkes, I need to you take this letter to the following individuals; Remus Lupin, Amelia Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minerva McGonagall, Arthur Weasley and Alistair Moody."

The phoenix held out his leg patiently, waiting for his companion to secure the notes, and vanished in a flaming ball, trilling a soft song as he went.

The summoned team slowly gathered in his office, sipping at the offered tea from the Hogwart's house elves and growing more and more confused as to why they had been brought together. Finally when Amelia Bones made up seven, stepping elegantly from the fireplace donned in official Ministry robes and looking slightly disgruntled at the disruption to her meticulously planned day, the team looked questionably towards their leader.

"What is the meaning of this Albus? I was just about to meet the muggle Prime Minister to discuss the dragon infestation and I've had to postpone." She ranted, using her wand to vanish the ash from her robes.

"Yes Albus, I was wondering the same, I was just about to take the kids to Diagon Alley to fetch their Hogwarts bits, Molly isn't best pleased at all with the call, nor are the kids for that matter." Arthur quipped.

Albus placed his wand in his holster, and pulled out a detailed parchment he had been working on, dates and figures scrawled over the surface. He looked grim.

"It has come to my attention that a man we have previously imprisoned appears to be innocent, my source provides adamant knowledge of an individual that can help us free him, if we are to find him."

"And who might this individual be, Albus?" Moody grunted, his glass eye swinging in its socket. "Well I'll be."

The oak doors crashed open, an infuriated young boy entered the room, taking into account everyone who was present before nodding slightly in the direction of the Headmaster, approving of his choices. The team looked confused, who was this child who had much such an appearance into a secret meeting?

"That would be me, Harry Potter, pleased to be of service." His replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, and my dad."

James Potter slowly entered the room, head still spinning at all the new sensations and sounds he was now able to process, his mind still finding trouble connecting the faces he saw with the names he remembered. There was no mistaking the long greying beard of Dumbledore, connected to a gawping open mouth, conveying his shock.

"Hey now Albus, shut that mouth, it's very unbecoming of you." He joked, looking around the room, until his eyes settled onto his old friend, who had paled to a sickening shade of grey.

"Woah Moony, you look like you've seen a ghost." He said, concerned.

Remus blinked, barely absorbing the sound of his best friend's voice that had been barely able to conjure more than a handful of words these last ten years, before they slammed shut, and his body fell limply to the floor. Harry's quick reactions stopped him from slamming his head to the ground. James laughed at this friend's predicament.

"Well, at least I still know how to make an entrance."


End file.
